The Retirement Plan
by WritePassion
Summary: Michael knew when his obligations to the CIA were over, he couldn't expect a watch and a thank you. But this retirement plan wasn't what he'd hoped for. Continuation of the buddies theme from Chaos and Sandstorms, and Saints and Soldiers Protect Us.
1. Chapter 1

_Burn Notice: I don't own it, I just like to play with it._

**The Retirement Plan**

By WritePassion

Michael stood alone in the darkened room, a drink in his hand, surveying the street below while he contemplated his choices. A year ago, from a similar position, he crossed the line and killed Card. He should have been executed for his crime, but the higher ups recognized that Card was part of a cancer inside the system, and Michael's familiarity with it and ability to root it out could be put to good use. Michael was tired of running and ready to try to live a normal life with Fiona and leave the agency behind when everything went south. He was given the choice of freedom or lifetime sentences in prison for her, Sam, Jesse and his mother, and it was clear that he could only do one thing, take the deal.

The CIA's offer gave him an excuse, an easy out of something that could have possibly been the hardest thing he'd ever done. If he'd been honest with himself, he would have admitted that he was terrified of being a civilian. He hadn't been one since he was seventeen, and he had no idea how to take up that life again. Giving his friends and his mother their freedom felt good, even if he lost his in the process. Only the prospect of it being a temporary trade-off kept him going, and now he sensed that things were coming to a close. Just one more mission, and he would be done. They hadn't told him that but he knew, and the scary, unexplored civilian world was creeping up behind him.

Unknown to Sam, Michael was staying in the hotel next door to Elsa's. The Agency didn't want him at the Darabant, and it had nothing to do with the cost. He would be too close for comfort to his best friend. Why they couldn't have booked him a room farther up the coast, he had no idea. It was as if someone was taunting him with the carrot of Sam's friendship, yet forbidding him from getting in contact with the ex-Navy SEAL, the guy who had his back for so long.

"This is a sensitive operation, Michael," Director Raines told him. "Sam Axe is just going to complicate things."

"He has an excellent background in intelligence," Michael countered. "He could be a big help."

"He doesn't work for the Agency. Don't get him involved." The hard look in Raines' icy blue eyes told Michael that insubordination would not be tolerated, even a little. "The days of working with your friends are long gone. There's no negotiating and no discussing this."

Michael decided it was best to stay within the lines for the time being and slowly push the boundaries when the opportunity arose. In the meantime, he looked down on South Beach and watched Sam and Elsa walking up the street to Carlito's. He knew it was his friend by the way he walked, and even from this far away he recognized the love as he enveloped her with a protective arm. Strange that he'd gotten to know the man so well, but they had decades of history between them, which helped. Thinking about it physically hurt, so he swallowed back the pain and longing for his friend with the last of his drink.

Michael considered distracting himself with thoughts of Fiona, but that would only cause more pain. Instead, he went down to the hotel restaurant for dinner and a drink or two at the bar where he was scheduled to meet his contact. He was early, but he didn't care. It was something to do to take up the time and give himself a chance to get his head back in the game and stop thinking about what he lost. Then he could get his job done and maybe be free of the CIA once and for all, and he could fix what had been broken.

He parked himself at a spot where he could keep a good eye on the bar and the patrons nestled in booths and gathered around tables inside the establishment. It was out of habit rather than a genuine interest in the people, and it saved his butt from getting ambushed many a time. His cell phone pipped and he looked at the screen.

_Meeting location changed. Stone Crab Shack in 30 minutes. – P_

Great. He just started on a fresh drink. Michael slid a twenty on the bar and slipped off the stool. This was the third time his contact changed locations on him. His suspicions grew with every change in venue, and he wondered who was playing this game and why. He considered calling Raines and pulling the cord on this one, yet the prospect of gaining some valuable intel through this contact spurred him on. One more time, then I'm done. Michael sighed as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. The Stone Crab Shack was up the street a few blocks, and his path would take him past one of his favorite haunts. He considered crossing the street to avoid the open-air porch at Carlito's, but that was a ridiculous idea. He could handle it. Really, he was much stronger than that.

"Hey, Mikey!"

Inside, Michael cringed when he heard Sam call out to him. Should I acknowledge him or just keep going? He'll want to chat, but I don't have time. Would it hurt to simply turn and wave? That's what Michael did.

"Mike, come on and have a beer," Sam cajoled as Michael kept walking.

"He looks like he's heading somewhere, Sammy. Maybe he's working," Elsa suggested.

"I know he's probably working but it would be nice to hear from him now and then."

That statement, made almost out of his hearing, stung. Sam, if you only knew…. I wish we could work together, to be friends again, but it's not possible. I have to take care of this, to pay my debt to the agency, and then we'll have plenty of time to hang out and do whatever regular people do. Michael shook his head. He'd been so deep in covert ops for so long, he had no clue what "normal" people did. He needed some serious help in that department. He couldn't help the smile that crossed his face when he imagined that Sam would have a blast showing him how to relax and be a civilian.

He arrived at the meeting location with almost ten minutes to spare. He checked out the clientele, sizing them up, hoping that his contact was already there or coming soon. The music inside was a little too loud, so he retreated to the outdoor patio. Here, he and his contact could talk and hear themselves, but their conversation would blend in with the others going on around the small table he selected. Michael lowered himself into the seat with a heavy sigh. He was tired of waiting, being led around like a puppy on a leash, and the head games were getting old.

When the server asked what he wanted, he said, "Just water for now." No way was he blowing more cash on a fruitless endeavor.

"You're early, Michael."

His eyes roved to meet the woman who spoke. The tall, slim brunette wore a flowered sundress, something he would have expected a tourist to wear and not a spy. It brought back memories of an operation a couple of years ago, when she acted as his spouse. Unlike that time, her face bore no tension, only a warm smile.

He rose and offered her a hand shake. "Pearce. Long time no see. What are you doing here?"

"I'm your contact," she admitted as she took his hand and glanced around at the other patrons. "Mind if I sit?"

"Go ahead." He waited until she sat across from him before speaking. "You're my contact."

"Yes." Pearce ordered a drink from the server, and when the woman disappeared into the growing crowd, she continued, the words spilling out of her as if she'd been holding back for too long. "I feel terrible about this deception. You're not here to pick up some intel from a contact, Michael."

Puzzled, he tilted his head and asked, "What am I here for?"

"The contact you were supposed to meet at the hotel… was assigned to kill you."

A thousand thoughts and feelings ran through Michael's head, but he could only sit and stare at her.

"I understand if you don't believe me, but it's true." Pearce paused and took a deep drink from the water glass before her. "Did you ever give any thought to how the Agency would terminate your employment with them? I mean, were you given any timetable for how long you would be forced to work for the CIA?"

"No," Michael answered as he shook his head, his eyes starting at her and comprehension seeping into his brain. "I can imagine they're not going to hand me a gold-plated tchochke, shake my hand, and wish me a nice life."

"Of course not. Michael, you're dangerous. You know too much about the skeletons in the closet, and they're not going to let you go without eliminating the threat you pose."

He sighed and looked away, leaning back in his seat and trying to appear casual. "I kind of expected that they would try something. So you derailed their plans."

Pearce met his eyes, her own watering as she swallowed hard. "Yes. Your last mission was a success and the Agency has enough information to finish cleaning house without you. Unfortunately, now they see you as part of the housecleaning process." She leaned forward and said, "You should go find a deserted tropical island somewhere and live a long, happy life."

Michael, to his surprise, laughed at her suggestion. However, it sounded stilted and nervous in his ears. "Dani, you and I know that I'd never be happy."

"Would you rather be unhappy and alive, or unhappy and dead?" She let out a deep sigh and sat back in her chair, her hands pushing the hair tight against her head. Frustration creased her forehead and brought a frown to her face before she closed in again. "I know that you want to find Fiona and make things right with her before it's too late. But I'm warning you, that would be suicide for both of you."

"You don't know what this has been like for me…."

"I know more than you'd think. Card exiled me to Mumbai, remember? If I didn't have friends in high places, I'd still be there. Although, the favor didn't come without a price, and I'm paying for it, like you." Her eyes drifted to the drink that the server set before her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's not common knowledge." She gulped her drink and slammed the glass on the table, and as the remaining contents sloshed over the rim, she said, "I suggest you get out of here, find someplace where no one would suspect you would go, and stay there. Don't tell anyone, not even your best friend."

"You know, I just saw Sam on my way here…."

"Stay away from Sam, unless you want to risk his life too. And Jesse and your Mom." Pearce shoved her chair back and stood. "I have to go before someone sees me with you." She extended her hand across the table and said, "Good luck, Michael. And watch your back until you disappear."

Pearce left so quickly and melded into the people on the sidewalk, Michael almost thought he'd dreamed that he'd seen her, but he saw the back of her head. She had been there, and now she was gone. His phone sounded off, announcing he had a text message.

_Michael, we're waiting for you. You're buying the next round, buddy._

"I don't think so, Raines," Michael muttered. He slipped his phone into his pocket, and as he left the restaurant, he dropped a few bills onto the server's tray as he walked past her. "That should take care of the drinks for me and my friend."

He kept walking northward away from his room and the hotel bar where Raines waited. He had told Michael that he was bringing along a couple of men who had an opportunity for him. Raines wouldn't give him details on the phone, and as he walked, Michael replayed the conversation in his mind.

"Michael, this is a golden opportunity for you. These men have a special assignment for you, highly secretive, but also very lucrative," Raines announced with excitement in his voice. "I guarantee you won't have to worry again how you'll live, because you'll be all set!"

When Michael pondered Raines' words, he realized that they could be taken two ways. On the surface it seemed as if a chance to make some serious money was coming his way. On a deeper level, if these men were really set on killing him, he certainly wouldn't have to worry about how he was going to live ever again, because he would be dead. He feared that someday this would be his fate, but until Dani dropped the bombshell, there was no reason to read between the lines. He had to go somewhere and think, to figure this out for himself. Would he trust Dani more and save his own life, or go back to the man who gave him a new chance with the Agency but was now possibly prepared to kill him?

For now, Michael would keep walking until he found a place where he could pay in cash and lay low for awhile. Once he had a plan, he could come out of hiding and hopefully he would discover that Dani was wrong. If she was right, he needed an exit strategy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Walking back to the Darabant with Elsa, Sam found his mind wandering but circling around one figure, Michael Westen. He kept telling himself that it wasn't anything personal, that Mike was on a mission no doubt and didn't have time to talk or socialize with his best friend. They'd seen so little of each other lately. Granted, they'd had years of no contact, but after Michael returned to Miami a burned spy and before he made his deal with the CIA, he and Sam had spent a lot of time working together. Sam missed that. Elsa did her best to distract him. Even now, she curled her fingers around his side and tickled him, chuckling when he squirmed and tried to get away. Her grip tightened on his side and she pulled him closer.

"Don't worry about Michael, Sammy. You know how he gets on a job, intense, focused, and everything else sits by the wayside."

"How do you know," Sam asked. "You never worked with him."

"No, but I have had conversations with Fiona, and his mom, since you all came back. I understand how driven he is. He reminds me of myself a little." Elsa stopped Sam on the sidewalk and pulled him out of the flow of traffic. "Honey, you have to understand that it's not about you."

"I never thought it was." Sam shook his head and stared at the people walking past. He felt the warmth of Elsa's hands as she took his, and he squeezed them with a gentle, loving pressure as he turned back to her. "I wish he was done with the Agency. If he got out now, there might still be some hope for him and Fi."

Elsa gave him a knowing smile. "Oh, he'll never lose her. She may seem angry, and she has a right to be. Michael promised her something that he needs to deliver if he can ever hope to win her back. For now, she's just... dabbling." Her smile turned down as she added, "That's what I fear the most, that she'll have time to see something she thinks is better than Michael and she'll pursue it. If he walks away from the Agency and she's not waiting for him..." She couldn't finish voicing the thought, and Sam's arms enveloped her and pulled her to his chest.

"I know. Those two are no good without each other." Sam rested her head on his shoulder as he basked in the closeness of her, thanking God that he wasn't in the same boat as Mike. He kissed Elsa's cheek and loosened his grip so he could see her face. "Let's go back to the hotel. Maybe I can track Mike down tomorrow and find out what's going on. Give him a little nudge and remind him what he's missing."

Sam wasn't sure it would help, but at this point he was willing to try anything short of kidnapping his friend and stealing him away from the CIA. Mike may not have said anything to him as he passed the table, but Sam could see as plain as day that he was unhappy, stressed out, and afraid. To see Michael Westen fearful was an unusual sight indeed. Sam resolved that he would find out the cause, and if he could help, he would do it. To hell with the CIA. He knew they didn't like him and didn't want him involved with Michael. He didn't care.

"Sam. Sam Axe."

Turning toward the familiar voice, Sam held onto Elsa tighter as if they were about to face Satan himself. In Sam's eyes, he might as well have been. He was the reason Michael was in this mess. "Raines. What's got you slithering around Miami?"

Raines laughed at Sam's greeting. "Nothing you need to worry about, Axe. Ms. Darabant." He nodded at Elsa.

Elsa's hand tightened on Sam's waist as she asked, "I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting."

"Elsa, this is Director Raines. Raines, this is Elsa Darabant. Although he probably knows a lot about you, baby, more than just your name. He's one of the head honchos at the CIA."

Raines gave Sam a cold smile. "You can say that as loud as you want, Axe. It doesn't matter to me."

"Whatever." Sam sidestepped himself and Elsa around Raines, preparing to walk away, but Raines stopped him. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to know if you've seen Michael."

"If I saw him, do you really think I'd tell you?" Sam's eyes were cold as he stared at him.

Raines knew the truth. He nodded and said, "He's bailing on a mission, Sam. This was his last one, and then the Agency was done with him. I know you want him out, so if you know where your friend is, do him a favor. Tell him to meet me at the Agency offices tomorrow morning, and I'll brief him on his... last... mission."

Sam watched Raines turn on his heel and head back to the hotel that was next to Elsa's. He sensed an icy rod of dread working its way up his back. Did the guy really think he was that stupid? Mike's last mission. Yeah, right. Sam didn't know where Mike was, but he sure wish he did, because he would be in his car hunting him down at that very moment. He had to warn his buddy that the CIA had termination plans for him.

"That man is mysterious," Elsa remarked as they walked to the hotel.

"That man wants Mike dead."

She gasped and looked at him. "Why? He's been loyal to the Agency. He's done what they asked of him, hasn't he?"

"Yeah. Most people, when they leave the CIA do it of their own free will without any repercussions. But with Mike, things are different. He knows things most agents have no clue about, and they're afraid he could use it against them." Sam pulled her closer, fear for his safety churning up a need for her comfort. "Elsa, if they find him, he's dead. There's no other way around it."

"So what is he going to do, run for the rest of his life? That's insane!"

"Maybe for a little while." An idea was forming in his head. "If I can find Mike and get him out of Miami, off to some remote location where they'd never suspect him to be, he could hide out for awhile."

"And then what?"

Sam pulled away, took her hand in his, and led her up the steps into the hotel. "I'm working on that. Right now, there are only two choices. One is to fake his death and get him a new identity. That's easy enough. It's not like we've never done that before. The other option is to have him cloistered away until the Agency gets tired of pursuing him or they realize that he isn't as big a threat as they think."

"Is there anything he could do to prove to them that he isn't a danger to the Agency," Elsa asked.

He let her go ahead of him into the elevator before answering. When he did, he was careful about his words. On a regular basis, Sam and the chief of hotel security made sure there weren't any covert listening devices or cameras in the elevators or around the hotel, and other measures assured that the penthouse suite he shared with Elsa was always clean. Thanks to his caution, the Darabant had the best security in South Beach, if not the entire Miami area. Still, he spoke soft near her ear.

"I don't think anything he does will appease them, Elsa. Mike needs to just disappear for awhile."

"Well, it seems as if he already has, doesn't it?" She replied as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and a sly smile crossed her lips.

"Perhaps. I'd just feel a lot better knowing where he is." Sam enveloped her in his arms and pressed his lips to her waiting mouth. She knew how to entice and distract him, if only for awhile. His mind was on Mike, but by the time they reached the bedroom his friend was out in the Miami night, alone.

Despite all Sam's security measures, nothing was foolproof. He and Elsa were so intent on their conversation and each other that he didn't see the well-built man in a dark suit who followed them from where they encountered Raines. He took up position in the lobby, pacing with casual steps around the open area checking all the angles and means of escape. When he was satisfied that Axe and the woman were not coming down, he took a seat in the bar, nursed a couple of drinks until closing time, and watched the elevators.

His cell phone rang. "Hello."

"Anything?"

"No, Sir. Westen isn't showing his face, if he's here. The couple went upstairs about two hours ago. I don't think they realized I was following them."

"Good. Keep it that way. Your relief is coming in a half hour. Get some rest, but remember, you're on call," Raines ordered him.

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

The morning sun hit Sam in the eyes and woke him from a pleasant dream. He grumbled at the intrusion, but when Elsa shifted closer into his body, he smiled and rolled to his side as he wrapped an arm around her. She nestled into him and moaned with delight. She smelled so good and her warmth and soft skin was so compelling, but as he came to wakefulness Sam remembered that Michael was out there somewhere in Miami without even a friend to help him. Sam kissed Elsa's neck, disengaged himself from her, and slid out from the satiny sheets.

"Sam, where're you going," she mumbled and turned.

He caught a flash of skin that, if he wasn't distracted, would have enticed him to return to bed. Instead, he smiled at her and said, "It's okay, sweetheart, you just stay in bed. I'm going to get dressed and see if I can find Mike."

"I'll go with you," she exclaimed as she slipped out from under the covers and hurried to the dresser.

"Elsa, no. This could get dangerous."

She turned, her arms clasping her clothes to her chest. "Sam, after meeting that Raines fellow last night, it galls me that they treat Michael so terribly. I can't stand by and watch it anymore. I have to do something to help."

"They want to kill him." Sam stopped before her and grasped her upper arms, looking deep into her eyes. "You don't know what you'd be getting yourself into. Besides, this hotel can't run without you."

"You and I know that's not true. I could go on vacation for a couple weeks and it would run just fine." Her mouth twitched into a half smile. "Weren't you the one who tried to convince me of that?"

"Yes, but..."

Her eyes darkened as they bored into his. When she got like this, he knew there was no convincing her to stand down. "We'll find Michael, Sammy. Then we'll hide him away for awhile. I know just the spot, too." Taking a breath, she added, "You better pack for some cooler weather. You two might be there for awhile."

"What are you talking about?" He stared at her, puzzled.

"You know my late husband owned a lot of property all over the country. Some of it was... sheltered... under false names." She held up a hand to cut him off from asking questions. "The point is, he had a place up north, in the woods. I don't think anyone knows about it but me. Michael will be safe there. We just have to find him and deliver him to the cottage."

"Easy peasy, just like that."

She laughed and caressed his cheek. "Easy peasy." She gave him a quick kiss and turned out of his grip. "Now get busy while I put myself together!"

Sam knew that when they were on the run, Elsa wanted to go along but he wouldn't let her because of the danger. When he snuck away to be with her and reconsider his being on the lam, she made it clear that if he abandoned his friends she would have no more use for him. He hadn't realized until then how much loyalty meant to her. There was no doubt that letting him go hurt, but she did it out of love. Apparently, her love ran deeper than he ever considered and extended to his friends.

Knowing that, Sam still didn't feel right about her accompanying him on his search and what would ultimately be running away from the government. Yet part of him didn't want to give her up, and if this didn't work out, he might never see Elsa again. Did she know how much she was sacrificing? After finding Michael, he would make sure that Elsa understood the stakes and then give her the choice. Then maybe he wouldn't suffer the guilt of taking her away from everything she knew if she decided to come with them.

The water turned off in the bathroom, and Sam finished collecting his things. She emerged, they switched places, and by the time he emerged from the bathroom, Elsa had a large suitcase packed.

"I'm ready," she said, standing beside the bed where their two cases lay, her hands on her hips. "I think we should take a walk first. Get some breakfast and decide how we're going to do this."

Sam eyed her. "You're starting to scare me. You sound like Fi."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Elsa retorted as she flipped her hair over her shoulder, a move Fiona would have made. "Time's wasting. We need to think where Michael might have gone."

"I have an idea, but I'm warning you, it could take a really long time to find him." He glanced at the suitcases. "These might have been premature."

"I'll have the bellboy put them into my car so they're ready to go when we are."

Elsa arranged for the luggage to be stowed in her car while she and Sam walked to Carlito's to get some breakfast. As they strolled along on an early Saturday morning, the tourists began to come out from the hotels and head for the cafes before hitting the beach. The scent of coconut oil hung thick in the humid air.

An uneasy, prickling sensation, the kind Sam got when he sensed that he had a tail, caused him to stop and look into a shop window. Elsa tugged at him, having no clue as to why he stopped. Sam ignored the prompt. He pretended to scan the items in the display, while behind his sunglasses his eyes slid to the left and observed someone slowing his gait and pretending to look in a shop window while keeping an eye on Sam and Elsa.

He put his arm around Elsa's shoulder and turned her back toward Carlito's. "Honey, we're being followed."

"How do you know?" She turned her head to look over his shoulder, but he stopped her with a kiss on the lips that in normal circumstances would have made her forget about breakfast, never mind a tail. When their lips parted, she tilted her head back to catch her breath.

"A guy from the Agency is tailing us. I recognize him from last night. He was hanging around Raines, close enough to be backup, but far enough away not to look like they were together." Sam's arm tightened around her waist as he tried to keep his pace consistent so he didn't give away that he knew the man was there.

She whispered, "So what are we going to do?"

"Just keep walking. We'll get breakfast and be the lovebirds we are," Sam said with a seductive smile. "Then we'll go back to the hotel, arrange a rental car and get the bellhop to move our luggage to the rental car. While our tail thinks we're upstairs..." He grinned. "We'll sneak out, get the car, and go looking for Mike."

"You're so devious," Elsa purred and ran a hand alongside his face. "I love it."

The couple acted according to Sam's plan. The agent situated himself at a table not far from theirs, with a table full of diners between them. He tried to pretend he was reading the morning paper, but the couple and their expressions of affection were too much for him to avoid spying. He hadn't finished his own meal, but Sam called for the check and he had to scramble to pay his bill before the two got too far away.

"Let's have a little fun with this guy," Sam muttered to Elsa as he led her down the side street that went to a shopping center.

"Sam, don't waste too much time. Michael's trail will get cold if we dilly dally too long."

He glanced at her with a smile and a surprised expression on his face. "You're really getting into this, aren't you?"

Her expression was stark as she said, "This is serious business. And you know how I am about business."

"Yes, I do." He nodded and took her hand. "Just ten, fifteen minutes, and we'll head back to the hotel. We might even be able to lose him for awhile so we can put our plan into motion." Pressing their hands between them, he added, "Don't worry about Mike. I know him, and I have a pretty good idea where he went. He'll stay there as long as he feels safe, so we'll have time to find him."

The shopping center was beginning to fill with early shoppers, and Sam and Elsa tucked themselves in among them. She stopped at a stand that sold hats, picked out one with a wide brim, and put it on in a way that obscured her and Sam from their tail. He walked right past them without seeing either one. The moment he was lost in a crowd, Sam plucked the hat from Elsa's head, grabbed her hand, and hurried her out of the courtyard. He led her down a side street and kept watching for their tail, but it became obvious that their tail hadn't picked up on their trick.

Elsa had a key that got them into the hotel through the kitchen and entered the manager's office to call the front desk. "Javier, this is Ms. Darabant. Did Ernesto get the luggage transferred?"

Javier answered, "Yes, ma'am, he did. Uh, there's a message at the desk here for Mr. Axe."

"Can you bring it down to the kitchen?"

"Certainly, Ms. Darabant. I'll be right there."

While Elsa spoke with the manager, Sam kept watch at the door for anyone suspicious in the kitchen. His pulse raced as he thought about the danger he was exposing Elsa to, but it was hard to shield her when she willingly followed and seemed to be trying to take the driver's seat in this operation. He knew she was willful, but this would be a real test. Either Elsa would learn to trust the experts and work with him and Mike, or there would be a lot of head butting that could further plunge them all into something more hazardous. He hadn't been this afraid in a long time. Maybe he could still convince her to stay behind.

"What's going on," Sam asked when Elsa hung up the phone and perched herself on the edge of the desk.

"Javier is bringing down a message for you."

Sam paled. "For me? This isn't good, Elsa. Our tail might be wise to us." He looked around and noted that the kitchen staff bustled about beyond the large picture window, oblivious to what was happening in the office.

"We'll just have to wait until Javier gets here to find out." She reached out and took Sam's hand, massaging it. "Just relax. We'll see who the message is from, and then we'll worry about what to do."

Javier spied the couple and hurried toward the office with a small folded piece of paper in one hand. "Mr. Axe, one of my people brought this note in for you this morning."

Sam took it from him and asked, "Who's it from?"

"I don't know. Angela was told not to open it, so she didn't. And neither did I, Sir." He backed away. "If you'll excuse me, I have a hotel to run while you and Ms. Darabant are away." He smiled.

Before Sam could ask how Javier knew, the man was gone. He glanced at Elsa with a raised eyebrow.

"I may have implied that we were going on vacation," Elsa said. "That's all!"

Smiling, he said, "Now who's devious?" He turned his attention to the note with his name printed on the front. He didn't need to open it to know who was the author. "It's from Mike."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The night before, Michael waited until dark to choose a place to lay his head, using the cover of night to throw off anyone who might be following him. He caught a ride from a sympathetic younger man who drove him to Hallandale, and from there Michael got lost to anyone but himself. He found a cheap motel off the busy streets and dug in for the night. For such a tattered looking motel, he was surprised to discover that the bed was soft and relaxing. It was almost too comfortable because he fell on it and into one of the deepest sleeps he'd experienced in quite awhile.

When he awoke, Michael was disoriented. He was still in his suit and shoes, ready to bolt if necessary. From behind a curtain, he scoped the outside and saw it was still very early. A diner stood on the corner, its red neon calling to him a siren song in the form of fresh coffee and a good breakfast. He hadn't eaten any supper, so he was starved. Checking out the street, at least what he could see of it, he didn't see anything suspicious. It might be safe. He would keep an eye on things as he went to the diner.

Inside, there weren't many customers. He sat at the end of the counter and ordered, and he pretended to read the morning paper while keeping an eye on the people who came and went. A lot of them stopped in for coffee and breakfast to go. One woman entered, the bell jingling above her, and she shuffled in to sit two stools away from Michael. She wore a uniform, a simple black tunic with a white blouse. Her long shapely legs were covered with black nylons and she wore black sensible shoes. Her straw blonde hair was kept up in a chignon and a few tendrils framed her peaches and cream face.

She didn't look like she belonged in this neighborhood. She should be somewhere classier. Michael was so busy studying her, he didn't realize that she had been studying him from the moment she walked in the door.

"Excuse me, do I know you," she asked him, her eyes staring at him staring at her.

"Huh? Uh, no, I don't think so." Michael gave her a smile of embarrassment. "You don't look like you're from around here." Michael saw the oval gold name tag on her uniform with the familiar fancy logo over her name, Angela. "You work at the Darabant? What do you do there?"

"I'm a supervisor in housekeeping. It's not a great job, but it has a few perks." She sipped from her coffee and glanced at Michael. "You don't exactly look like you're in the right part of town either, Mister."

Michael glanced down at himself. Other than looking a little rumpled, he thought he'd cleaned up enough to not look like a bum. He must have done okay. "No, I'm not usually in this part of town."

Angela looked at his profile, her eyes squinting down. "You really do look familiar. Are you sure we haven't met before? I can't help but think I've seen you somewhere."

"Maybe, maybe not. I get around." Michael finished off his coffee and the woman working the counter refilled it. "Thanks."

A light seemed to go on in her eyes and she pointed at him. "I know. You're Mr. Axe's friend." Her head bobbed, pleased with herself for remembering. "Yes, I'm sure of it."

Michael turned to her, hiding his shock as he asked, "You know Sam Axe?"

Angela smiled as if everyone should know him. "Of course. He and Ms. Darabant have been a couple for quite awhile now." She snickered and spoke low. "Some of the staff have placed bets on when they'll get married."

As Angela spoke, Michael analyzed her facial expression and body language, sizing her up, looking for some sort of trap. But she was genuine, warm, and very well versed on the goings on at Elsa's hotel. He asked her a few more questions until he was certain that she posed no threat. In fact, he decided that she could be an asset.

He finished the last bite of his breakfast, and Michael asked, "What do you think of Sam?"

"Other than the fact that he's very handsome for his age, charming, and just a really overall nice guy?" Angela giggled behind her napkin that she used to wipe her mouth. "He's one of those people that you just want to bend over backwards for, because he appreciates it. Even if he doesn't say anything, you just know. Know what I mean?"

Michael nodded. He hesitated, then pulled out a small notebook from his suit, contemplating the possible repercussions of the risk he was taking trusting her. "If I gave you something to give to him, would you do it? If I ask you to not look at it, and just give it to Sam, would you?"

"You bet! I usually see Mr. Axe in the mornings, when he comes back from his morning run on the beach," Angela told him. "I'm coming in for work, and he's trotting up the steps in those shorts and..." Her face reddened, and she pursed her lips and gave her coffee cup some attention. "Anyway, I see him every morning, pretty much. If I don't see him, I'll make sure he gets your message."

The bold honesty in the woman's demeanor was refreshing. Michael had grown accustomed to people lying or covering their lies with an amicable expression, but if she was leading him on, she was damn good at it. All he could read was truthfulness from her.

Scribbling a short note, Michael folded it and gave it to her. "This is really important. Sam needs to get this today, do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir." Her smile was reassuring. "I promise, I'll make sure that Mr. Axe gets this note." She leaned closer and took it from him, her head almost touching his. "I don't know why you don't just call him, but I suppose you have your reasons."

"I'd rather not talk about it." Michael found himself surveying the area again, looking for a catch in this too easy scenario.

She lowered her voice and whispered under the growing din from the other diners. "You're that spy guy, aren't you. I get it now, you're undercover or something." She nodded and stuck the piece of paper down her blouse opening and chuckled. "I've always wanted to do that, stick a clandestine message in my bra."

Michael placed a warm hand on hers on the counter. "Angela, be careful. There are people looking for me, and if they got a hold of that note, your life could be in danger as well as Sam's." He released her hand, pulled out his wallet, and extracted some bills. "Let me get this, and you hurry to the Darabant and get this message to Sam. I don't want you to miss him."

She nodded. "Thank you for buying breakfast. I'll deliver this to Mr. Axe as soon as I get to the hotel. I promise!" She patted his shoulder as she turned the stool and slipped off of it. "Good luck, and stay safe."

"Thank you. You too!" He watched Angela leave the diner, worried that he put her life in jeopardy. She walked across the street to the bus stop and before he was on the street heading back to the motel, the bus picked up Angela and took her toward her destination. He never liked involving civilians in his work, but he knew that sometimes it was unavoidable. Occasionally, they made incredible assets. He had a feeling Angela would be one of them, and when Sam got the message, he would find a way to contact him. He was certain of that.

* * *

Sam reread the message again and let out a deep breath, and Elsa watched him with growing concern, asking, "Is Michael okay?"

Nodding, Sam replied as he stuffed the piece of paper into his shirt pocket. "He's fine. He's exactly where I thought he would be, so now I just need to figure out how to get there and pick him up without having the CIA on my back."

"Why don't I go and get him?"

"Just like that. Elsa, they're watching you like they're watching me." Sam shook his head, nixing the idea. "And no, Maddie is out of the question."

"Fiona…."

"No," Sam interrupted her. He leaned against the desk as he bit his bottom lip and considered his options. "I have an idea. We'll bide our time, go to the house, drive these CIA guys nuts following us all day. When Angela gets off her shift, we'll pick her up at the hotel and take her home, and I'll signal Mike to meet us at the diner that's on the corner, after dark. Then we'll get out of town with him."

"Javier thinks I'm going on vacation, Sam."

"No problem. We'll go shopping for vacation stuff, just to bore our shadow even more," Sam answered with a grin. "You forget that I've had experience with these guys. You lead 'em around for hours, and eventually they need to take a break. That's when we move, when he's waiting for his backup to show. If his vehicle suddenly became disabled, and we took off, he won't stand a chance of catching up to us."

Elsa stood in the middle of the room with her hands on hips, disbelief on her face. "How do you expect to do all this, Sam? It's just us."

"I have a secret weapon in my arsenal. Let's go up to the penthouse for a bit. I need to make a secure phone call."

Still doubtful, Elsa followed Sam to the penthouse suite. When they were inside, he got on the phone that he knew was safe and called a number he never entered into his contact list. He waited for her to answer. When she picked up, he said, "Fi, I need your help." He didn't bother telling her that Michael needed her, because he was afraid that she would bow out before she even knew the mission.

"Really? I would have thought Elsa would be more than equipped to assist you in your leisurely pursuits."

Sam detected a hint of anger in her mocking. Sort of like when they met again after Michael had been burned and dropped in Miami, he was again feeling her ire. He didn't let it affect him. He knew she was hurting.

"Fi, I need your help in disabling a car."

Her tone changed to amusement. "What's the matter, have an ex stalking you?"

"More like the CIA," Sam responded. "And no, I'm not going to get into it with you. Just tell me whether or not you're going to help."

Fiona sighed, a deep resonating burst of breath that hissed in Sam's ear. "I could use the practice. I don't want to have to disable a car in the future and wire it to blow instead. So where do you want me to do this?"

"In Hallandale, across the street from the Dixie Belle Diner. There's a motel just down the street, and I'm going to make sure the guy parks there." He described the vehicle and the agent who would be following him. "So just make it that he can't keep following us, Fi. I won't even ask if you can do it, because I know you can."

His flattery got the warmed response he expected. He could hear a smile in her voice as she asked, "You don't want me to do anything else, like get your asset out of the motel?" She must have been grinning when she said, "I can't imagine you'll have any trouble with Michael."

"Fi, how'd you know," Sam asked. He considered lying by omission, but she deserved better than that. After all they'd been through as a team, she was not the same woman who wanted to rip his head off for botching her arms deal, a deal she had no business conducting in the first place. Instead, he replied, "I've got everything under control."

"Really. When are you planning on committing this little caper?"

"Tonight." He filled her in on the details and she listened, asking a question now and then. He wasn't sure he wanted her briefed on everything, but the fact was that Fiona would be a great assistance in this plan. He just wasn't sure if putting her in the same car with Michael wasn't akin to mixing oil and water and throwing a lit match on it all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The phone rang, and Raines growled at it. He had his feet up on the desk, enjoying a little of his stash of whiskey, trying not to think about Michael Westen. By now his agents should have found him. All day he received reports of Sam Axe and his lady going about Miami, shopping, of all things. He snorted. No real man let his girlfriend lead him around to one mall after another, but apparently Sam was that kind of guy. And they appeared to be going on a real trip, judging by the things they were purchasing.

Raines sighed and picked up the phone. He was so tired of that jangling. "Raines."

"Sir, it's Agent Baxter. I followed Axe and his woman back to the hotel, and one of the staff came out. They picked her up and now they're driving to Hallandale." Excitement rose in his voice. "Sir, I have a feeling they're getting close to Westen."

"This woman they picked up. Was it Glenanne?"

"If it was, she was in disguise and she dyed her hair, Sir. This woman was a blonde."

"Okay. Keep your eyes open, Baxter. Don't let them play you." Raines never thought much of Sam Axe, but the ex-SEAL proved time and again that he wasn't as dumb as he looked in those goofy Hawaiian shirts. Michael was right. He'd learned enough in his service to the country to be as wiley as Westen.

"They're dropping her off at the corner. Alright, Axe is parking and they're getting out. I'm going to park and watch them, and I'll report back later." Baxter ended the call.

Raines drained his glass and set it on his desk. He leaned back, but he felt anything but relaxed. If he closed his eyes, he could probably envision the scenario. He hoped that Axe was preparing to meet up with Westen, and if he was, they could finally end this. Raines liked Michael. He was the best agent they'd had in a long time, but the government was, plain and simple, afraid of him. As the old adage went, knowledge is power, and Michael had enough to be a danger. The only solution was to kill him. Raines' stomach roiled at the thought, and he poured himself another drink to the rim, hoping the alcohol could numb his feelings.

Sam and Elsa parted from Angela, but before she walked away, he took hold of her elbow and spoke in her ear. "Thanks for helping Mike, Angela."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. Axe. Tell him good luck for me." She smiled at him, truly honored to be able to help Mr. Axe's friend, but also reveling in the fact that the man himself was touching her. She was close enough to smell his cologne, and what a tale that would be the next day in the housekeeping office!

"Good night, Angela." Elsa broke into her runaway imagination.

"Good night, Ms. Darabant. Mr. Axe." With reluctance she broke away from him and walked west to her apartment.

"Nice girl," Sam said to Elsa. "Now, let's put the next phase of this plan into operation. Our tail is over there close to the corner. We'll go into the diner and hang out until Mike shows up." He and Elsa crossed the street and walked up to the diner entrance.

"Are you sure that agent isn't going to try to grab Michael before he gets here," Elsa asked as Sam opened the diner door and let her inside.

"I don't think so." Sam nodded toward a booth tucked in back near the kitchen.

A lone figure sat in the booth, his dark head down. As the bell jingled he glanced at his watch and straightened. Michael smiled, blinked as if he was keeping his emotions from embarrassing him, and he waited for Sam and Elsa to join him before speaking.

"Sam," Michael's voice croaked with emotion, and he stretched his hand across the table. "It's so good to see you."

Sam grasped his hand for a few moments and released it as he replied, "You too, brother. What'd you do that's got the Agency all hot and bothered about knocking you off? I thought you took care of all the dirty guys."

"Yeah, and the Agency can take care of the rest without my help," Michael explained. "They want me dead because I know too much, Sam. Think about it. How many people, former Presidential aides, senators, spies, even SEALs, are writing a book these days about what they did for Uncle Sam?"

Sam nodded and finished Michael's thought. "You're right. If the public knew about what happened in the CIA, it could be not only a national embarrassment, but maybe even create some international incidents."

"Exactly." Michael nodded. "No matter my circumstances, I would never, ever, write about this. I don't think people could handle it for one thing." He sighed, took a sip of his coffee and stared out the window at the encroaching darkness. He turned back to Sam and Elsa and said, "I love my country, and I've spent too much of my life doing things that I'd rather not rehash in a book. But they don't care. The CIA would rather not take the risk that I might."

"Do they do this to all spies," Elsa asked, horror creasing her brow and widening her eyes.

"No. I'm kind of unique," Michael replied with a quirky smile.

Elsa was getting desperate. She asked, "Have you tried talking to this Raines guy? Maybe you can convince him that this chase is all for nothing."

Sam put his arm on the seat back and pulled her closer. "Sweetheart, after everything that happened and how we all went on the run, Raines will be even less likely to let Mikey just fade away. It's not gonna happen, so we need to make it happen ourselves."

"What have you got in mind, Sam?" Michael eyed him, but he stopped talking when the server arrived with their dinners. When she retreated, he asked, "What's the plan?"

"There's an agent out there right now watching this place. No doubt he's already spotted you in here, so he's licking his chops waiting for the right opportunity to nab you," Sam answered. "While we're in here, Fiona is working on disabling his car. I wanted to work out the details with her, but she assured me that she didn't need my help."

A warm but sad smile crossed Michael's face. "That's my Fi." The smile disappeared just as quick as it came, and he gave his meal some attention. "I wonder why she's helping me."

"She loves you."

Elsa's words made him raise his head and look at her. "I wasn't so sure the last time I saw her. I broke Fi's heart, and I didn't want to or mean to, but I did."

"Yes, but this is proof that she still loves you, Michael," Elsa insisted with a smile. Hoping for a happy ending for them, she added, "There's still a chance for you to make things right."

"Not if I'm hidden somewhere for God knows how long." He squinted at Sam. "So where are you taking me, anyway?"

Sam answered with a cocked smile on his lips. "You're better off not knowing until we get there, Mikey. Just know that it's up north, and it gets cold in the winter, but hopefully we won't be there that long."

"If we are, we'll have to hit the Fleet Farm and get some winter gear," Elsa quipped.

"Oh no no no, honey, you're not going to be there that long," Sam protested, his hand wagging in time with his words. "You're along for a week, maybe two. After that, you have to get back to the hotel."

Elsa looked as if Sam had whacked her in the face with a two by four. "I'm not letting you do this again, Sam."

"It's too dangerous."

"I can handle it."

"I don't think you can."

"You'll never know until you try me."

Michael watched the argument between them and sat back in his seat, feeling the tension brewing into a storm. It reminded him of sparring with Fiona, except these two seemed to get so much into so few words, it fascinated him. Their voices were rising, so he decided it was time to end this.

"Hey! Enough!"

Sam and Elsa turned from each other to face Michael with puzzled expressions.

"Sam, Elsa needs to come with us for awhile to convince the Agency that she's on vacation. After a couple of weeks, we'll see how this plays out. She may not have a choice at that point." Michael set his gaze on Elsa's big eyes. "Until then, we'll do what we can to prepare you, in case we have to go deeper into hiding."

"Will Fiona be with us," Elsa asked.

"I don't know," Michael answered. "Probably not."

Elsa seemed disturbed by that, but she nodded in resignation. "Maybe there's some way you can get in touch with her, and she could keep an eye on what's happening here in Miami."

"Most likely once Mike is gone they'll bug out," Sam said. "They'll concentrate on trying to find him."

"Which would leave Fiona free to do whatever she pleased." Elsa said. Her face relaxed and she smiled. "With some encouragement, I think she could be counted on to create a little distraction and throw off the dogs."

"She's already doing that by disabling the agent's car." Michael tilted his head toward the sedan outside.

"I think she'll have something better in mind." Elsa's smile turned into a grin.

"Elsa, you're starting to worry me," Sam said as he looked at her. He noticed her eyes were focused beyond Michael, and he turned his own in that direction. Fiona stood in the kitchen door, signaling that she took care of the car. She held a piece of paper up and shoved it into a gap in the molding around the door way, and she turned and disappeared through a door marked Ladies.

"Sammy, would you mind moving? I need to use the little girls' room," Elsa said as she wriggled closer to Sam.

He got out of the booth to let her pass. "Sure, baby. Just be careful."

"I will." She smiled at him and hurried to the ladies' room.

While Sam took his seat he watched Elsa pull the note from the slot and continue to the restroom. He shook his head. "You know Mike, sometimes I wish Elsa wasn't so inquisitive. She's asked me to teach her all kinds of spy craft and how to handle guns, all under the guise of being able to protect herself." He let out a breath. "I think she got too much information, and now she's dying to use it. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It seems to me that a business woman like her has the cunning to do the job. I guess we'll find out." Michael finished his coffee and stood. "I think I'll take a pit stop too before we leave. We'll want to get as many miles between us and Miami overnight as we can."

"You got it, brother. I'll get the check."

The restroom was small with only two stalls, and while it was clean, it looked as if it had lost its attractiveness a long time ago. The light salmon tiles and light green stalls were garish under yellowish lighting provided by a lone bulb, and the fake rose scent filling the air didn't help matters. Elsa stood inside the door of the restroom and watched Fiona checking the second stall before they came face to face.

"Hi, Fiona," Elsa said, unsure of how to begin the conversation. And she was usually so good at working a crowd, but the ex-IRA, bombing, gun-running girlfriend of Michael Westen was a different kind of person than she was used to encountering. She refused to think of Fiona as Michael's ex, because if she and Sam could come back together after everything he'd been through, she had no doubt that Michael and Fiona could do the same.

"Elsa," Fiona replied. "You picked up the note for Michael?"

"Yes, I did, and you know I'll give it to him." She hesitated as she saw the pain and love in the other woman's eyes. "You'd be better off telling him yourself, unless it's a break up letter, which would be a horrible mistake. No matter what happened last year, Michael adores you, Fiona."

She sniffed and flipped her hair behind her shoulder. "He has a funny way of showing it."

"I know." Elsa approached her and spoke with restraint. Inside, she felt like shaking the younger woman to knock some sense into her. "I could be here all night trying to explain to you why he did what he did, but that's for Michael to say, not me. You should come with us, and then Michael will have all the time in the world to justify himself."

"Where are you going?" Her eyes shone with longing, despite the war that raged within her.

"North. I can't tell you more than that it's a long way," Elsa answered. "And I don't know how long Michael will be gone. I think he'd be a lot more comfortable wherever he winds up if you're with him." She ended with a warm smile and hoped that her words could convince Fiona to join them.

"If I go with you, what's the plan?"

Elsa's smile widened. "We're leaving from here. If you did your job and disabled the agent's car, he'll be stuck. Sam has another vehicle waiting in a safe place for us to switch, and they'll never know where we went. After that, we just keep driving until we get to our destination."

"It sounds so simple." Fiona shook her head. "Could it really be that easy?"

"As long as nobody's wearing a tracker, and we're ditching our cell phones, it should be," Elsa said. She pulled hers and Sam's from her purse, cracked open the backs to remove the SIM cards, and dropped the carcasses in the sink.

Fiona watched in fascination as Elsa turned on the water and doused the phones. She left them soaking while she finished her business in one of the stalls, and without fanfare she picked them out of the water and dumped them into the waste basket.

With a look of amusement on her face, Fiona asked, "Are you sure you don't want to step on them and break them up, just to be on the safe side?"

Elsa laughed. "I thought that might be overkill, but hey, whatever."

"No, I'm kidding." Fiona stopped her from fishing them out of the trash. "They'll be fine."

Fiona followed Elsa's example and destroyed her phone. She let out a huge sigh and said, "Let's go meet the guys."

The smile on Elsa's face was so big, Fiona thought it might crack her face, and in her excitement she grabbed Fiona's arm and pulled her out of the restroom. Michael and Sam waited near the door for them, anticipation on Michael's face.

"I'm going with you," Fiona announced with a soft voice. "Elsa and I ditched the cell phones. Michael, do you have one?"

"No, I took care of mine the minute I started trying to evade the CIA," Michael replied with a voice as soft as Fiona's. He smiled and slipped an arm around her shoulders, then turned to his friend. "Sam, Fi and I will take her car, get it out of here, and we'll meet you at the rendezvous point."

"Mike, are you sure you wanna do that," Sam asked, eyeing them with concern. "If you get caught…."

"We won't. Don't worry. But if we're not there in a half hour, go home and get back to your normal lives, and I'll try to contact you as soon as I can." Michael's eyes locked onto his with a stubbornness that Sam knew well.

"Okay. We'll see you soon, Mikey. Fi, take good care of him."

Fiona's smile was thin and tentative as she pressed herself into Michael's side. "I will."

Sam didn't like this plan, not one bit. After Fiona and Michael got into her car and drove away, Sam hesitated a few seconds to see what the agent would do. As he suspected, the car wouldn't start. Sam looked in the rearview mirror and saw him banging on the steering wheel in frustration.

"Well, that's our cue to leave," Sam said, chuckling, and he pulled out into traffic.

"I see Fi's car up ahead." Elsa pointed with her chin. "You're not seriously going to let them go off by themselves, are you?"

"Are you kidding? They'll take off and we'll never see them again." Sam shook his head and with determination said, "We're not going to let them do this alone. Besides, I'm not sure it's safe to leave Mike and Fi together without backup."

"She loves him. She's not going to kill him."

A mirthless snort came from him. "You haven't seen how she can get when she's mad at Mike. No, we'll hang back and see what happens. If Mikey needs help, I'll be there." He glanced at Elsa. "There's a pair of handcuffs in the glove compartment, just in case."

Elsa laughed, but in the glow from the dash she saw that Sam was serious. Perhaps she underestimated Fiona. As a woman, she sensed Fiona's love for Michael, despite how he'd hurt her, and Elsa was certain that she would never give up on him. She might give him hell for it, but in the end she would still love him. However, Elsa never considered that Fiona might be inclined to inflict some damage on Michael. As they followed the couple out of the city and to the location where Sam hid the SUV, she hoped that Fiona would leave something for them to rescue.

"Okay, this is where the SUV is, and they're pulling in," Sam announced as he watched the little sports car turn in to an abandoned homestead.

The SUV was tucked away in a pine hammock, where in the daylight no one would see it from the road. At night it was virtually invisible. Fiona's headlights flashed on it before she turned left again and parked behind the garage. Sam parked in among the trees near the SUV, turned off the ignition, and he and Elsa transferred everything from the trunk to the SUV. They finished, and still Fiona and Michael did not emerge from her car.

"Do you think we should check on them," Elsa asked. She hugged herself against the slight chill in the air.

"Nah, give 'em a little more time. She's probably ripping Mike a new one, and he's trying to get a word in," Sam replied with an uncomfortable chuckle. After a few minutes, he said, "I should probably check on them."

"No, I'll go. You wait here." Elsa took a step forward and Sam stopped her with a hand gripping her arm.

"Why you?"

"I'm a woman." She pulled away.

Sam only shook his head, not sure where the logic was in that. By the light from a half moon, he watched Elsa tip toe up to the vehicle and with caution she tried to peer through the window. It didn't take long for her to return.

"Well? Are they okay?"

"The windows were fogged up. I wasn't going to bang on one to get their attention." She snorted. "Come on, let's get in the SUV and wait for them." She tugged on Sam's arm when he didn't move. Her laugher was deep and her smile seductive as she suggested, "Maybe we can do a little steaming of our own."

If he wasn't so concerned about their precarious position, Sam might have obliged her. Instead, he got into the driver's seat and fidgeted until Michael and Fiona came around the garage corner and headed for the vehicle. They were holding hands, which was a good sign. Mike wasn't limping or looking like he'd gotten the crap beaten out of him, which was even better.

The couple was half way to the SUV when a pair of headlights shone on them, and a voice barked on a loudspeaker. "Halt. Michael Westen, you're under arrest."

"Aw, crap," Sam blurted, cranked the ignition, and put the SUV in gear. He pulled between the couple and the squad car and yelled out the window. "Get in!"

Michael opened the back door and pushed on Fiona's backside to urge her inside, but she balked. "Fi, come on!"

"No! They'll catch us for sure!" Without warning she turned and ran to her car.

"Mike, get in! We'll pick her up around back." Sam shouted, and to his relief, Michael hopped into the back seat.

Sam gave the vehicle some gas as he turned in the tight space and drove through the tall grass to the back of the garage. As he arrived, Fiona's car moved away and around the building, tore across the front yard, and clipped the back of the squad car as she raced for the road. The trooper turned his car and followed her. By the time Sam came around to the front, both cars were gone, and he pulled onto the road and saw Fiona's taillights leading the cruiser south.

"Mike…."

"Go, Sam. Head north." He could barely speak with the lump in his throat. "She understands."

Sam took a long look at his friend sitting in the shadows in the back seat, noting how his shoulders slumped, defeated. It brought a lump to his own throat, but he swallowed it because he had a job to do. He had to protect his friend and get him to safety. After that was accomplished, they would figure out a way to bring Fi to their hideout. At least this time leaving was her choice, sacrificing her happiness for his safety. Maybe she really did understand after all what it was that Mike did for them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"You okay back there, Mike?" Sam glanced over his shoulder at his friend sitting near the passenger side window, his face toward the glass, not moving.

"I'm fine, Sam. I think we established that about fifty miles ago," Michael mumbled his reply. "And sixty, seventy, and so on."

"Sorry, brother. I'm just worried about you, that's all." Before Michael could come back with a sharp retort, Sam injected some cheer into his voice. "Hey, why don't you take a little nap back there? I might have you drive later."

"Okay."

Silence fell in the SUV, the humming of the tires on the roadway the only sound. Beside him in the front, Elsa dozed, her head leaning against the window. In the glow from the dash, she looked beautiful, her face frozen in peaceful slumber. Sam smiled and returned his attention to where he was going. After finally being convinced that no one was tailing them, he drove through the night on a freeway that was devoid of almost all traffic except for a semi here and there. He passed one trooper sitting in a u-turn lane in the median, but he didn't seem interested in a guy going the speed limit.

It was tempting to push the pedal to the floor. The sooner he got Mike to safety, the better. However, attracting cops was not the way to go about it. He touched the button on the GPS and it lit up, showing him how many miles he had to go to arrive at the next leg of the trip. They were heading north on I-75, but he wouldn't be following it all the way to Michigan, a place he'd called home at one time in his life. Elsa's cottage and remote property were located in northern Wisconsin. It was crazy going there, but at least it was a place that no one would expect Michael Westen to flee Miami to settle into for awhile. None of them would have left Miami for this place, and in that respect it was the perfect hideaway.

"Sammy, you okay?"

Sam smiled and reached across the space between him and Elsa and covered her hand. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You've been driving for awhile now, almost six hours." Elsa sat up straighter in her seat. "We're going to have to stop for gas soon, aren't we?"

"Already did that. You were out like a light. Mike was awake, and he filled us up while I got us some snacks." He grimaced, knowing Elsa wouldn't approve of the items he'd chosen. "Sorry, honey, you know how those gas station mini-marts are." He flashed her an apologetic smile. "They had some bananas."

Elsa groaned. "Oh, great. First grocery store we see, we're getting decent food. Got it?"

"Yes, dear." He picked up her hand and kissed it before keeping a hold on it and resting his elbow on the console.

She looked into the back seat and observed Michael sleeping, his head wedged between the window and the head rest. "Poor guy. He looks exhausted."

"Mentally more than physically, I'd say."

"Hopefully he can relax up at the cottage. It's on a small lake, and it's just beautiful there. So quiet, serene, lots of bird song in the morning." She turned toward the front and smiled. "The loons put you to sleep at night. It's amazing." She sighed, giving Sam the impression that she needed this almost as much as Michael did.

"You've actually been to this place," Sam asked. "I didn't know that."

"Yes, when Evan was a kid we would travel up there sometimes in the summer. The little town nearby always had a fireworks display for Independence Day, and we'd go watch it." She settled back into the seat as she spoke, the memories bringing a softness to her face. She smiled and emitted a soft chuckle. "Sometimes, on a whim, my husband would get us all up out of bed, and in our pajamas we'd go to the dump to watch the bears forage for food."

"You what?"

Elsa's laughter was soft out of deference for Michael. "Yes. I know, it sounds far less sophisticated than going to a production of Swan Lake, but you'd be amazed what kind of entertainment small town life provides. Like bear watching." She sighed. "Unfortunately it got so popular that all the headlights scared the bears away, so they probably don't do that anymore."

"Probably not." Sam held back a hearty laugh. He couldn't imagine her being interested in watching bears paw around smelly rotten garbage. "You never cease to surprise me, Elsa."

"Of course. Have to keep you on your toes." She replied with a lightness in her voice. "Speaking of keeping on your toes, are you ready to switch?"

"No, I'm good." He dropped her hand and put both hands on the wheel while stifling a yawn.

"No, you need to switch. If it makes you feel better, I could take over, you get in the back seat, and Michael can keep me company and stay on the lookout for trouble." She gazed at him, and he realized that she'd done it again. She knew what he was thinking.

With a long, drawn-out sigh, he said, "You're getting too good at this sneaky protecting-the-spy stuff, Baby."

Her smile widened. "It really isn't much different than my life, keeping abreast of the competition and trying to outwit them all the time. I just don't have to worry about any of them coming at me with a Mac ten."

"Very true. Okay, next time we need to stop for gas, you can take over."

It was almost dawn when Sam pulled in to a gas station off the freeway and filled up the tank. Michael woke, bleary eyed and his head swiveling around in disorientation. He saw Elsa getting into the driver's seat and adjusting the mirrors and seat for herself, and he ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to wake up.

"Are we close to where we're going," he asked Sam as he got out of the vehicle.

Sam replaced the pump and replied, "Nope. We're not even close. By GPS estimates, we still have another twenty hours or so to go."

"Where are we going, the North Pole?"

Sam laughed and chucked his friend's arm. "Ha, good one, Mikey. No. But we'll be pretty close to the Canadian border. Maybe by a two, three hour drive."

Michael nodded, yawned, and swatted at a large bug that buzzed at him. "Where are we now?"

"In the middle of Georgia. We're taking the interstate up to Tennessee, and then we get off onto another interstate. Don't worry about it, Elsa's got the GPS programmed, and if we try to keep two of us awake at all times, we won't get lost and we won't get ambushed. God willing." Sam headed for the small building to pay for the gas. "Be right back."

After taking a bathroom break, the three piled into the SUV and Elsa got them back onto the freeway. Michael was still tired, but he was able to stay awake and keep Elsa company while Sam dozed in back. The warm, sticky air formed wisps of fog around and over the road, giving the scene an eerie appearance and obscuring the developing dawn. With each mile, the fog grew thicker and more hazardous. Elsa slowed.

"How fast are you going," Michael asked.

"About fifty, fifty two. I don't dare go any slower or I'll be a road hazard, but any faster and there won't be enough time to react to anything." She glanced at Sam's reflection in the rearview mirror. "I wonder if we should wake Sam."

"He'll be fine back there. Just keep watching the road, and I will too." He glanced at her and gave her a reassuring smile. "We'll get through this."

Elsa's eyes wandered to him for a moment and she changed the subject. "I wish Fiona hadn't run off like she did. Why did she do that, Michael? What did you say to her?"

"Nothing." He leaned back into the seat and told her, "When Fi and I were alone in the car, she really let me have it. If there'd been more space, I think she would have liked to beat the crap out of me. Instead, she just yelled, and I let her." He swallowed, the memory of Fiona giving voice to her pain causing a sharp ache in his chest all over again. "I haven't seen her that angry very often."

"When Sam thought we should leave, I went to check on you two and the… the windows were steamy. I thought you two were making up," Elsa said and glanced at him. "I'm sorry."

"No, by that time we were making up," Michael revealed with a small smile and a chuckle that faded away as fast as it bubbled up from him. "As much as I hate it when Fi gets really angry, when she starts crying… it's like, I don't know, I can't deal with that. The only thing I can do is hold her and… and kiss it away." He turned toward the window, embarrassed at his revelation.

"Every couple has their quirks," Elsa declared. "Some are just more unique than others. However, I don't think anyone could consider you and Fiona an ordinary couple."

"Should I take that as a compliment?"

Elsa shrugged. "Take it however you like. Sam and I…." She gasped and her foot jammed on the brake pedal, and the SUV shuddered as it slowed and came to a stop a couple feet short of hitting a pickup truck and a semi that blocked the lane. The truck was wedged under the trailer at an odd angle. Fortunately, the driver was spared the crumpling that the front end and part of the empty passenger side took instead. Two men stood near the cab, and at the sound of the SUV screeching to a stop, their heads turned, two faces full of horror as the headlights bathed them in glaring light.

"Stay here," Michael said.

"Where are you going?"

Before Michael could answer, a loud bang concussed around them and the SUV leaped forward despite Elsa still having her foot on the brake, and the front end slammed into the back of the pickup truck hard enough to inflate the air bags. Sam woke up, emitting a half cry, half shout.

"What… what happened?"

"Sammy, we've been hit," Elsa announced, her adrenaline rushing and causing her breath to come short and fast. "Michael, thank God you didn't get out."

Two more bangs and crumpling metal sounds behind them told the sickening truth that they were in the middle of a multiple car pileup on the freeway. The three fought the instinct to run away from the mess. The SUV shook less and less with each hit that added to the pile until it stopped, and they looked around at the carnage of crumpled vehicles that faded into the fog.

Michael craned his neck around the seat. "Sam, are you okay?"

"Yeah, just the wake-up call wasn't exactly gentle." He twisted and turned his head, assuring himself that he was indeed alright. "Elsa, honey, how about you?"

"I'm fine. A bit shaken up, but I'm okay."

After a few moments, the scene grew quiet, the kind of silence that raised gooseflesh. The fog prevented them from seeing anything farther than a dozen feet outside the windows. Sam looked behind them and saw the dark figures of people moving about. "I think it might be safe now."

Michael and Sam were able to evacuate on the passenger side, but Elsa's door was jammed by a demolished subcompact. She crawled over to the passenger seat and Michael helped her. They turned and Sam was nowhere to be seen.

"Where'd he go," Elsa asked, pulling a lock of stray hair from her face.

"Let's go, walk straight back the way we came. Maybe he's helping to free people." It didn't take long to find Sam, and when they did, Michael berated him. "Sam, you should have waited for us. We don't want to get separated in this fog!"

"The fog is temporary, Mike. Once the sun comes up, it'll burn away. Right now, there are injured people out here who are trapped in their cars," Sam responded with a tight voice. "And get a good whiff of that air. There's a fire around here somewhere, and if it's in this pileup... well, I'm not wasting any more time." Sam turned on his heel and approached a little car that, due to the pileup, looked even smaller. A woman with wide, wild eyes pounded on the glass, her cries muffled by the barrier.

"Alright. Elsa, stay here." Michael turned back to the SUV. "I'm going to get the tire iron and some supplies."

Elsa watched and twisted her hands as Sam tried pulling on the woman's car door. It wouldn't give. Unable to continue as a mere bystander, she moved forward and said, "Maybe the two of us can get it."

"Nah, this thing is really compacted. We're gonna need that tire iron that Mike is getting." Together they tried, but it was useless.

Michael returned, motioned for the woman to return to the driver's seat, and he swung the angled rod. It hit the glass and shattered it, but it took a second whack to get it to break up and fall. By then the woman inside was hysterical. Michael dropped the tire iron and he and Sam pulled her from the wreckage. She clung to them crying and mumbling her thanks.

"Hey, Elsa," Michael spoke with a gentle voice. "Why don't you see if she's okay? Sam and I will go check on some of the others."

"Sure."

By the time a dozen or more police and emergency vehicles arrived, the able-bodied survivors had been collected on a bluff rising up from the road. The rising sun took care of enough of the fog, allowing them to see the full spectrum of the damage. The injured were either left in their vehicles or laid on the shoulder, bandaged with the limited resources that Sam had packed in the SUV and some supplies the trucker kept in his rig. Michael and Sam stood with hands on hips surveying the mess when a trooper approached them. Michael's first instinct was to raise his guard, then look for something to defend himself. He glanced at Sam, and his friend held the same cautious stance.

The trooper smiled and nodded at them. "Morning, gentlemen. I hear you're the two heroes around here."

"Heroes?" Michael looked at Sam as if he had no idea what he meant. "We didn't do anythind heroic. We just helped people."

The trooper's smile turned into a grin as he drawled, "Oh, the press is gonna love you guys."

"We'd rather not get involved with them," Sam said. "Camera shy, you know?" He smiled at the trooper, and the officer nodded in reply.

"Yeah, I get it. No problem. I'll make sure you get out of here without the press bothering you."

"Worry about the wounded first," Michael said. His eyes moved to glance around at the people who lay on the pavement and a few sat up cradling bloody arms or pressing gauze to their heads. "Take care of them first."

"Where were you when this happened?"

Michael, Sam, and Elsa told him how she stopped to avoid the first collision and the chain reaction came afterwards. He took all the information, got their driver's license data, and assured them that he would be back to take them into town.

"You folks can rent a car in town and finish up your trip."

"So we're clear then? We don't have to stick around or anything," Sam asked, concerned that there might be repercussions because of Elsa's involvement in the pileup.

"Nope." The trooper grinned in reassurance. "Just stay here for a bit, and I'll be back later."

The moment the trooper was out of earshot, Sam spoke. "Do you think we can really trust him, Mike? What if he's stalling us while the CIA or FBI or whatever is on its way to pick us up?"

"We're kind of over a barrel here, aren't we, Michael?" Elsa asked. "I mean, he has our information, and if he runs the plates on the SUV, he'll know it belongs to my company. If we let him take us into town to rent a car, he'll have the rental car information too, and then we'll really be in trouble, won't we?"

Michael stared at her. Sam must have taught her well, because most civilians wouldn't have had a clue about such things. "You're right, Elsa. If he's honestly trying to help us, we shouldn't have to worry. But if someone comes around later asking questions..." He broke off his thought and shook his head. "No, we can't stick around here. We've got to get moving. Let's get our things out of the vehicle and start walking up the freeway. And let's hope the next exit isn't too far."

The three returned to the crumpled SUV and Michael got into the back seat. He pulled out the suitcases and handed them to Sam, and Sam set them next to Elsa. When he emptied the SUV, Michael crawled out and took his bag. Sam and Elsa grabbed theirs, and they all looked back at the scene that was now under control, with firefighters dousing smoldering cars with foam and washing away gas and oil from the road surface, and the EMTs worked on the wounded.

"Let's go," Michael said as he turned away and picked up his case.

Sam and Elsa followed behind him. The semi was partially blocking the shoulder, but they were able to get around it. On the other side of the cab, a couple of school buses sat waiting.

"Here they come," a woman shouted, and she rushed toward them. She wore a bright smile and had a friendly face, and she was dressed in a plain and simple outfit that seemed a bit out of step with the times, but it was clean and in good condition. "Hello, I'm Sister Eleanor. The other Sisters and I, we're from the St. Francis Convent nearby. Sister Louise heard about the crash on the police scanner, and we put together a team to pick up survivors."

"You're nuns," Michael declared as he gave her a once over.

She blushed at his examination and said, "We're a little more progressive. We don't wear the traditional habits, and we do a lot of work in the community, outside the convent." She flapped a hand. "Anyway, why don't you three get some seats on the bus, and we'll take you to the convent. You can clean up, have some breakfast, and make arrangements from there."

"That's very generous of you," Elsa said. "Thanks."

"Oh, that's just what we do, ma'am." Eleanor touched Michael's upper arm and gave him a gentle nudge toward the busses. "I'm going to get the others."

"Well, I guess we got told, huh." Sam smirked as he watched Sister Eleanor hurry toward the accident scene with the other nuns. "This is perfect, Mike. We lay low with the Sisters for a few days, and maybe that'll throw off anyone looking for us."

"I'm afraid it might make us an even bigger target if word gets out that the survivors are at the convent." Michael picked up his suitcase and started walking toward the busses. "We'll stay for today, at least. It'll give us a chance to figure out what to do next." He boarded the first bus. Sam and Elsa followed, and the three settled into two seats, stowing their luggage in the empty space on Michael's seat and underneath them.

As they waited for the other people, Sam and Michael kept their eyes on the surroundings, calculating the number of options for escape. Living life on the run was full of tension, and Sam had hoped that when he returned to Miami that those days would be past him for good. Now he was thrown into it all over again, but he wouldn't abandon Mike. He just didn't know what to do about Elsa, because he loved her to death but he couldn't ask her to keep running with them. Hopefully this would all be over soon and he wouldn't have to worry about it. Maybe something would go right for them, for once.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Dozens accepted the Sisters' offer of shelter, but loading the buses took a long time. Michael would have preferred to spend the hour on the road getting farther from Miami. Just when he considered getting off the bus with Sam and Elsa in tow, the last passenger boarded and Sister Eleanor followed and stood in the aisle.

"Welcome, everyone. Are any of you still waiting for friends or family?" She scanned the crowd and smiled, pleased that everyone who should be seemed to be aboard. "Excellent. Then we'll get going to the convent. The other bus can pick up any stragglers." She turned on her heel and sat in the driver's seat, fired up the bus, and put it in motion.

Sister Eleanor drove a few miles up the deserted freeway to the next exit. She turned right and drove deeper into the wooded wilderness, turning onto a side road that snaked through some low mountains. In her seat next to Sam, Elsa breathed and pointed to the scenery out the window. Sam followed her line of sight and eyed the view with appreciation. Michael glanced at it but saw nothing remarkable, since he'd seen similar mountainous regions around the world. He sighed and hung his head. Had he really gotten that jaded? He took another look just as the sun's rays painted the last swirls of fog and caused the dew on a meadow to glint like diamonds among the greenery. For a moment, the rich colors reminded him of Ireland and Fiona, and he couldn't tear his eyes away until the bus slipped around a curve and trees obscured the view.

The Sister drove the bus through an open gate and parked in a courtyard bordered by two long brick buildings on the sides. Beyond the traffic circle, a lush garden with a fountain and statues of saints in it extended to a stone sanctuary. Other nuns gathered to watch the accident refugees disembark, assisting them with places to freshen up before breakfast. Elsa separated from the men to go with some of the other women.

"I'll see you both at breakfast," she said with a smile and a wave.

Michael wasn't so sure it was wise to let her out of their sight, and when he glanced at Sam and saw his lower jaw working, he knew his friend wasn't too keen on the idea either. Before he could say anything, another nun led the men to a different dorm where they could clean up.

Michael stood beside Sam in front of a bank of lavatory sinks and mirrors brushing his teeth and shaving, and the two conversed in soft tones. "It's nice to be able to change into some clean clothes after being in that suit for a couple of days. Thanks, Sam."

"No problem, Mikey."

"Whose closet did you raid to get this stuff," Michael asked, eying the dark green polo top and jeans he wore.

"When we had a tail, Elsa and I went shopping for men's clothes," Sam replied. "The guy wasn't close enough to be able to tell that they weren't in my size. Not to mention that it wasn't my style." He winked. "He probably thought we were going on one he… heck of a trip." Sam splashed water on his face to rinse away the last of the shaving cream.

Michael's eyebrows rose. "You're shaving?"

"Anything to make me less distinguishable," Sam replied. Splashing on the aftershave, he winced. "Gonna take some getting used to doing it on a regular basis until we're in hiding again."

For the first time, Michael noticed that Sam wore a Hawaiian shirt, but it didn't have the usual wild pattern all over it. The soft ocean blue looked good with the dark blue jeans he wore.

"You look good, Sam."

"You too, Mikey. Now, we better go find Elsa and grab some chow, then figure out where we're going next."

"Are we going someplace other than where you were planning?" Michael studied Sam and hoped he wasn't letting Elsa's involvement affect his decision-making.

"No, that's still on. I just think that we should get out of here sooner rather than later. You were right, the longer we stay, the more vulnerable we are." Sam stuffed his toiletries in his bag, zipped it shut and threw it into his suitcase. "We'll talk about it at breakfast, okay?"

"Okay," Michael agreed. He still wasn't sure what was eating at Sam, but maybe if they could have a table to themselves, they might discuss it.

The men entered the dining hall and found their hopes dashed. Two long wooden tables ran the length of the room, and almost every chair was filled with survivors or Sisters. Elsa laid claim to three chairs at the end of one and waved to get their attention. Michael and Sam looked at each other.

"I guess it was too much to ask for a little privacy," Sam muttered. "After all, we're in a convent. Everything's pretty much open for everyone to see."

"And if it isn't…." Michael said and glanced toward the exposed rafters.

Sam chuckled. "Good point."

After everyone was seated and the Sisters finished praying with their guests, platters of food passed up and down the tables in sections so that everyone got as much as they wanted. They ate in silence as much out of respect for the Sisters and their customs as for the fact that what the three had to discuss was not appropriate for their table mates' ears. Sam picked at his meal and spent a lot of time glancing around at the other people. Anyone in a suit was suspect in his eyes. He sent silent signals to Michael to check out one or another. Each time, Michael shook his head. He didn't recognize them. That didn't necessarily mean they weren't agents. They just didn't look like anyone he knew.

With their stomachs full, the people disbanded and made travel arrangements or called for places to stay the night. Michael, Sam, and Elsa congregated in the garden near the fountain, using it to prevent their conversation from carrying too far.

"So, what are we going to do now," Elsa asked in an effort to break the ice. She sat on the bench surrounding the fountain and dipped her hand into the cool water as she listened to Sam and Michael discussing solutions to their problem.

"With so many drivers looking for rental cars to get on their way, if we don't jump at the chance now, we'll never get one," Sam said. "It's not like we're near a big city that has a lot of choices." He sat beside Elsa and slipped an arm over her shoulders.

"I know that. I talked to Sister Eleanor, and she said that she could get me a newspaper. We'll check the local ads for cars for sale, pay cash, and be gone."

"That could be risky. You never know what you'll get from one of these locals," Sam said.

"They might take advantage of us," Elsa added. "How about this. We buy a new car, and I arrange for the money to be wired to the dealership?"

"Too risky, unless we can get Barry involved to bounce it around a few times before it lands in the dealership's account," Michael said with discouragement in his voice. "Nice idea, though."

"Thanks. I'm really trying." Elsa looked chagrined and stared at her folded hands in her lap.

"You're doing just fine, sweetheart." Sam praised her and capped it with a kiss. "You know, Mike, I think we should contact Barry and let him do some of his magic. Maybe he could even open up an account at the bank closest to our final destination under an assumed name, and then we'll have some resources to live off. At least until we figure out a way to make some money while we're in hiding."

Michael chewed his bottom lip as he considered the plan. "It's risky..."

"We use the Sisters' phone and no one can trace the call back to us," Sam countered. "If you don't wanna talk to him, I can do it. You know, he kind of owes me for that time I saved his life."

"I thought you were even on that." Michael shook his head. "Never mind, it doesn't matter." He looked around at the beautiful flowers and listened to the burble of the fountain mixing with the chirp of birds in the trees. It was so peaceful, he almost wished that they could stay where they were. But it wouldn't take long for the Feds to find him if they traced the plate on the SUV back to Elsa and her company. "Okay, let's try to get a hold of Barry."

"Come to think of it, Barry owes you big time for getting him out of jail, Mike," Sam added as if Michael needed more convincing.

"I know."

"Guys, I think we have trouble." Elsa's tone was even and low, and her eyes locked on the traffic circle. "They work fast!"

Michael and Sam turned to see a brown sedan park near the bus and two men in suits got out and approached a nun. Hands held up their credentials, and one of them spoke to the Sister. Michael touched Elsa's elbow and said, "Let's get moving. We have to find a place to hide, now."

"The sanctuary," Elsa suggested. "Maybe the confessional?"

Michael would have laughed at the irony, but he was too worried about being caught. "You have any better ideas, Sam?"

"Nope. I vote for Elsa's."

"Okay, let's go." He thought for a moment about the luggage they left in one of the dorm rooms for safe keeping, wondering if the agents would want to inspect them for evidence. There was no time to go to the dormitory and retrieve their things, so he put it in the back of his mind and followed Sam and Elsa as they hurried to the church.

The large wooden doors were unlocked, and Sam pulled one open to let them inside. It slammed shut behind them and the narthex was dark except for some illumination coming from the large round stained glass window over the entrance. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, Michael saw candles flickered in glass covered sconces on the walls.

Sam and Elsa moved toward the open double doors leading into the sanctuary. The high ceiling covered with gold leaf and paintings of Biblical scenes wasn't unlike some of the places of worship Michael and Sam had seen in their many travels. The honey gold pews had no cushions and were speckled with colors from the stained glass windows. The church was old, as evidenced by some cracks here and there in the plaster walls and the wood worn in spots, but as long as it didn't come crumbling down around them for harboring a few heathens, Michael was okay with it.

Tucking three people into the booth where the priest normally sat was tight. "Sam, keep moving back," Michael grunted as he tried to close the door.

"I'm back as far as I can go, Mike."

"Sit down there, and I'll sit on your lap," Elsa suggested.

Sam did as she said and he wore a naughty smirk on his face. "You don't think we'll get into any trouble for snuggling up like this, do you?"

Elsa sighed, "Oh, Sam."

Michael took a step back and closed the door. He turned in the tight space and whispered, "Both of you, shut up. I need to listen for anyone outside."

After a few minutes, a steady but soft clip-clop of shoes on the tile floor caused them to tense. The cadence stopped directly in front of the confessional. Fear and anticipation gripped them, and the squeak of the door the the booth to the right heightened the sense of danger.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned." A small, repentant voice spoke on the other side of the ornate wood grating that obscured the confessor's face.

Eyes wide, Sam looked at Elsa. She shook her head. There was no way she could answer the woman on the other side. They looked up at Michael, and he returned a shocked expression. He pointed to himself, and Elsa and Sam nodded. Michael's mouth opened and closed, and he swallowed, getting up the nerve.

"Father. Father, did you hear me?"

"Uhhh, yes, yes my child, I heard you." Michael pressed closer to the window, which forced him to squash Elsa and Sam against the wall. "When was your last confession?"

"Two days, Father. I... wait, I'll be right back." She jumped to her feet and threw open the door. "Who are you, and what are you doing in here with those guns? What do you want?"

"Agent Ferguson and Agent Owens, CIA. We were told that three of your guests came in here a short time ago. We've been questioning everyone, looking for these people specifically, and no one has seen them since breakfast." He paused before continuing. "This man's name is Michael Westen. This is his friend, Sam Axe, and Axe's girlfriend, Elsa Darabant. Have you seen these people?"

There was a pause, and the three inside the booth imagined her looking at pictures. Michael's face was only inches from Sam and Elsa's, and he saw the doubt that they would make it out of there without a new set of jewelry around their wrists. Michael realized that he was holding his breath, afraid to exhale too loudly and be discovered. His friends must have had the same idea because they remained unmoving and silent.

"I think they were here earlier, but I haven't seen them since breakfast either. I'm sorry. Perhaps they went to town to obtain transportation."

"What about the priest?"

"The priest? Father Xavier?"

"Yes, did he see them?"

"I don't think so, Agent Ferguson. He's quite busy. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have things to do."

"Alright. We'll be around for awhile, so if you see them, you let us know, okay?"

"What, are they criminals?"

"You don't need to know why we're looking for them. It's just very important that they're found, okay?"

"Oh. Okay. Good day, gentlemen, and God bless you."

The soft clunk of Fed loafer heels echoed in the sanctuary and faded away until the door banging announced that they had left the building. The young Sister let out a soft breath and returned to the confessional. She knelt, clasped her hands on the rail at the window, and pressed her face close. The occupants recognized Sister Eleanor.

She whispered, "What is going on? Why are you three hiding from those agents?"

"It's a long story," Michael replied. "We don't have time to tell you. We just need to get away without being caught or raising their attention."

"Are you innocent?" Her blue eyes raised to his seeking answers, real, honest answers.

"Depends on what you're asking about," Sam muttered. When Eleanor turned her attention to him, he added. "We've done some bad things, Sister, some things the government wanted us to do, and some we did to get away from the Feds. They want Mike dead because of what he knows, and I, well, I'm his best friend and I'm not gonna let him go through this alone."

"That's very commendable, Mr. Axe, and dangerous," Eleanor said. "Well, the Bible does say, 'Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.' You're not my friends, but I want to help. What do you need?"

Michael shook his head and waved his hands in the confined space. "Oh no, we can't ask you to..."

"You're not asking. I'm volunteering." Eleanor smiled. "I know how you can get away without being seen. Stay here a moment, and I'll be right back."

Sister Eleanor burst out of the confessional and ran the side aisle to the back of the sanctuary. Her footsteps faded away and the door banged, but they didn't have to wait long for her to return. She came running, her breath huffing as she skidded to a stop and opened the booth door. The three inside raised arms and hands to ward off the bright light.

"Come on, it's okay. The agents are way on the other side of the complex, so they won't be back any time soon, I would guess."

Michael stepped out, followed by Elsa and Sam. The petite woman stood before them with a wide smile. Her chest rose and fell as she still caught her breath, and she clasped her hands before her.

"What do you have in mind, Sister," Michael asked.

"If you go out that door behind the pulpit, it leads to the back of the building. Head straight out and you'll wind up in the woods and go down a steep hill, where you'll come upon a small shack of a house with a garage," Eleanor instructed them. "Tell Elmer you need a car. He can fix you up with something, and in the meantime, I'll see what I can do about getting you your luggage."

"Sister, you're asking for trouble," Sam warned her.

Her eyes turned on his, determination in them. "Mr. Axe, I may seem young and innocent looking to you, but I know first hand how cruel and unreasonable the government can be. When I was eighteen, I was arrested and thrown into jail for something I didn't do. I was in prison for nearly ten years before an advocate helped me, and I wound up here. I wanted to get away from the people who took so many years of my life, and I needed to learn how to forgive them for it." She crossed her arms and shrugged. "Five years later, I'm still working on things." The smile returned to her face, but it was muted. "So, you better get moving. Stay with Elmer until I can get to his place with your things, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks," Sam said, his expression sad for her.

Eleanor shook her head. "Hey, don't worry about me. This really is the best place I could be. If I'd stayed where I started, who knows, I could very well be dead now. God put me here, Sam. He knows what's best, and if you know what's best for you, you'll get down there to Elmer's."

"She's right, Sam. Let's go." Michael let Elsa go ahead of him and he pulled on Sam's arm to get him to move toward a path into the woods. "Thanks Sister Eleanor."

"It's my pleasure, Michael." She waved to them and turned away before they disappeared into the trees.

Michael risked one last look back and he watched as Eleanor stepped lightly through the garden and stopped an old man who stood near a statue of Jesus. He wore a collar with his black shirt and pants. Michael could only assume that he was Father Xavier. The old man peered toward the woods and nodded at Michael, and the priest and Eleanor moved toward the dorm where Michael's team left their luggage. The agents stood near their car, looking around one last time before they got into the vehicle and left the convent. By the time they drove away, Michael, Sam and Elsa were deep into the forest, following the path that led down a steep hill exactly as Eleanor said. At the bottom in a valley sat an old one-story home in desperate need of repair. The garage was bigger than the house and in much better condition. A rusty old pickup sat in front of one of the doors, and both were open, so the clanging of metal filtered through the trees.

Michael hoped that Elmer was a decent mechanic and that whatever car he would give or sell them would allow them to escape and reach their destination without any more trouble. He'd had enough of it, and he was ready to find a place where he could rest. Having Fiona by his side would have been ideal, but he wouldn't hold out hope for that. Just get to a place of real sanctuary first. That was his foremost thought.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Michael, Sam, and Elsa exercised caution as they moved toward the open garage doors. The clanging stopped, interrupted by a country tune that was cut off in mid chorus, followed by a voice speaking.

"Yeah. Uh huh, no problem, Ellie. Uh huh, I see 'em right now. I promise I'll take real good care of 'em. 'Bye." The owner of the voice rolled out from underneath an old Dodge Charger similar to the one Michael owned, sprung off the dolly and stood with a grin plastered on his face. In a deep southern accent, he spoke. "Hey there, I'm Elmer. Sister Ellie told me you folks were comin'." He held out his greasy hand, hesitated, and with a sheepish smile wiped his hands on a rag before trying again. "Sorry, 'bout that. I get too wrapped up in my work sometimes."

"I understand that," Michael said as he shook Elmer's hand. "I suppose she told you why we're here?"

"Yeah, you're lookin' for a car. I got one over here that I've been sittin' on for awhile now," Elmer replied and led his visitors to a gently used Buick sedan. "It's about fifteen years old, but it runs great. My wife's been usin' it to run into town and go into Nashville to see her sister now and then, just to help keep her runnin' like a champ." Elmer adjusted his ballcap. "I was hopin' to sell it..."

"What do you want for it," Michael asked. He leaned on the open driver's side window and looked inside.

"Two G's oughtta do it, for what I put into it."

Michael winced. He didn't have nearly enough cash, and he didn't know what Sam and Elsa had. He turned to Sam and asked, "What do you think? Can we swing that?"

Sam looked at Elsa, and she looked at him. "Well, Baby? What do you say?"

"I suppose a car like that would make us less conspicuous." She bit her bottom lip as she ran through their options. Her eyes roved around the property and took in the other vehicles. Some of them were only there for harvesting parts. None of them looked as remotely in decent shape as the maroon car in front of them. She sighed. "That's a lot of money for a car that old, don't you think?"

"We don't have much choice right now," Michael said with measured words. "Elmer, do you have the keys? I'd like to start it up."

"Of course, hang on, I'll get them from the house." Elmer walked away and approached the open screen door. A wailing came from inside, and the screen slapped shut behind.

"Jeez, I wonder what's going on in there."

"I don't like this," Elsa said. "I think we need to get out of here right now."

"Elsa, this car is our only option," Sam said. "We've gotta wait for the keys."

"We could hot-wire it," Michael volunteered. "But that would just get us into more trouble."

"Sam, it's not like I have an endless supply of cash," Elsa retorted. "I don't want us to run out."

"How much do you have," Michael asked.

She eyed Michael, but she knew that letting the men know what she brought was for the best. "I took what I had in the safe in my office, almost twenty grand."

Michael whistled. "And you're worried about two thousand dollars?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Michael." She flipped open her purse and dug deep, and she pulled out an envelope thick with bills. "Okay, here, here's two thousand. Take it before I get even more squirrelly about this."

Sam put an arm around her and rubbed her shoulder. "It's okay, sweetheart. After we get this car, and hopefully we can pick up our stuff at the convent, we'll get back on the road. By this time tomorrow we'll be at the cottage."

"I hope you're right," she said, her eyes focusing on Elmer hurrying down the path from the house to the car.

"Hey, sorry it took me so long. Y'all just take the car." A keyring dangled from his shaking hand.

"What?" Michael accepted the keys and stared at him.

Elmer's eyes darted to each one of them and back to the house. "Yeah, see, my wife... well, she's, uh, she's goin' into labor and I gotta get her to the hospital now." He frowned. "I don't have time to talk."

A blood curdling scream came from the house, and Elmer turned white. He spun on his heel and took a step toward the house, but Sam grabbed his elbow to stop him.

"Wait a minute. How far apart are her contractions?"

The look in Elmer's eyes was one of pure fear. "I don't know, Mister. I just know she's been havin' a real time of it, and the midwife aint' comin', so I gotta drive her almost thirty miles to the city."

Another cry from the house made it clear to Sam that she wasn't going to make it. "Mike, I need our stuff if..."

"Don't worry, I'll go back to the convent and get it." Michael opened the driver's side door and got into the car. "Let's just consider this a test drive." He started the vehicle, put it into gear, and sped around to the drive and the dirt road that led out of the valley.

"Is there anything I can do," Elsa asked.

"Collect some towels and get some water boiling," Sam replied as he strode beside Elmer to the house. "Elmer, where's your bathroom? I need to wash up."

Elmer let Sam into the house and pointed to the short hall. "It's right down there, and the bedroom's at the end. That's where Louann is. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Sam nodded and stopped in the bathroom to scrub. He wasn't sure what he would find, but he was pleased to see the room was clean, even if it was about fifty years out of date. He heard Elsa and Elmer talking as the two prepared everything Sam asked for, and by the time he was ready to enter the bedroom, Elsa was already there.

The bedroom had enough space for a queen size bed, two dressers and a couple of night stands, with room to walk around the bed. It would be tight, but not impossible to work. Louann cried and writhed on the bed, the coverlet and sheets twisted and bunched up from her movements.

"Louann, my name is Sam, this is Elsa, and we're going to help you."

"The... the midwife can't come," Louanne sobbed.

With a soft, reassuring voice, Sam continued. "Don't worry about that. I've done this sort of thing before. Elsa, go see what Elmer's up to."

She nodded, slipped past Sam at the foot of the bed, and hurried down the hall. He took up the space where Elsa had perched herself on the bed and held onto Louann's hand as she worked through a contraction. The woman's face turned red, her cheeks puffed.

"Hey now, you've gotta breathe," Sam said as he stroked her forehead and pulled the stray hairs away from her face. "Just breathe normally. I know it hurts, but trust me, if you think about breathing and not how scary it is, it'll go a bit easier. Do you have any other kids?"

"No." Louann panted. "This is our first. I didn't know it was gonna be like this."

"I'm not gonna lie to you, it's not easy," he said. "But we're all here to help you get through this, okay?"

Elsa returned alone. "Elmer's kind of, um, indisposed at the moment," she said and looked at Sam with an apologetic gaze. "I think it's just us until Michael gets back."

"Okay, no problem. Elsa, honey, can you find some ice and bring a glass of it in here?"

"Sure."

Elsa rushed out of the room, and soon Sam heard hammering, a muffled curse, and more hammering. She returned not long after with a ziplock bag full of broken up ice, the corner wrapped around her thumb. He smiled at her. "So that was you making all that racket."

"Yes." She cocked her head. "I think Michael is here."

A car door slammed outside and feet pounded on the flagstone leading to the house. The click of the screen latch announced Michael's arrival and he asked, "Where are they, Elmer?"

"In... in the bedroom."

Michael stopped in the door with a duffel bag. "I got the medical gear. Where do you want it? And where do you want me?" He looked around for a place to set the bag.

"Right there, on the corner of the bed is fine. And for now, just hang around in case I need you."

Other than a few instructions now and then, Sam focused on Louann and monitoring her progress. Elsa, who had been through a drug-dulled labor many years ago, was lost but took to every order Sam gave her. Michael stood by waiting.

In his time in the military, Michael never came across a chance to deliver a baby. He knew guys who did, and they had some stories to tell. He learned enough to know that if he ever had a wife, he would never want to put her through such hell. Watching Louann suffer and Sam doing his best to make the experience less traumatic, Michael was even more sure of it. Thank God Fiona had never brought up the idea of having kids. Fiona. He wondered where she was, if she'd fled the States and gone home despite the risk to herself. If she didn't leave, where would she have hidden herself? Staying in Florida might be too dangerous. When he had a chance, Michael vowed to himself that he would find a way to get word to her wherever she was. Then she would have the option of coming to him if she chose.

Sam took a brief break to get himself something to drink, while Elsa talked to Louann to keep her calm. Michael followed him to the kitchen and they found Elmer sitting at the table with a small collection of empty beer bottles surrounding his form propped up on his elbows.

"Don't worry, Elmer, she's gonna be okay," Sam said and clamped a hand on his shoulder as he passed to the refrigerator. With his head inside, he asked, "You got anything non-alcoholic in here?"

"There are some Cokes. You're welcome to anything," Elmer said.

"Thanks. You want one, Mike?" Sam held up a can and Michael took it. He grabbed another and popped the top.

Elmer stared up at them. "You boys comin' here, it's like a gift from heaven. We sure do appreciate it."

"Yeah, it did seem like pretty good timing, didn't it," Sam agreed with a cocked grin.

"Sam... how long do you think this is going to take?"

He turned his attention to Michael and answered, "Could be hours yet. Why?"

"If you don't mind, I want to go up to the convent. I have an idea..."

"About our situation?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Well, not really. I was thinking about Fi. If I can get a hold of her..."

Sam chuckled. "You're thinking maybe she can meet up with us. Come on, let's go outside for a minute. Excuse us, Elmer."

"No problem." Elmer waved them away and held himself up with one arm propped on the table.

Outside, Sam looked around and realized that the day was fading and it would be dark soon. "If you get a hold of Fi, tell her we're going to Wisconsin. Elsa has a place on Waldheim Lake, it's in the northern part of the state."

Michael nodded. "I'll tell her. Thanks."

"Hey, if we're gonna be in hiding for awhile, having Fi around will at least keep you from getting bored." Sam smiled. Louann's cry came from the house, and he shrugged. "Guess it's back to work for me. Be careful, Mike!"

"I will. I'll take the path we used to get here. I don't want to risk using the car." Michael handed Sam his drink and turned toward the woods to jog to the path.

"Don't stay too long, brother," Sam muttered. "We don't need you getting lost in the woods after dark."

* * *

Michael emerged from the woods and surprised one of the Sisters. Smiling at her he said, "Sorry if I scared you."

"It's alright." The older woman peered at him through her trifocals and recognized him. With a brighter smile, she said, "You're one of the crash survivors. I thought you'd all left earlier today."

"Yes, we did, but... I need to borrow a phone." He could have asked to use Elmer's, but he didn't want to get the new family in trouble. The Feds, if they had any decency, wouldn't rough up the Sisters for information.

"Come with me," she said and led Michael to the office. "This is the only phone we have."

"Thank you. I really appreciate this," Michael said as he sat in a wooden chair next to the desk on which the phone rested. To his relief, she left him alone, and no one else was in the office. The church bells rang, and as he dialed Fiona's number he looked through the office window and watched the Sisters walking toward the sanctuary.

A female voice full of suspicion answered. "Hello? Who is this?"

Michael's voice caught in his throat at the sound of Fiona's voice, but he regained it before she could hang up. "Fi, don't hang up. It's me."

"Michael," her voice came out in a whisper. "Where are you?"

"I'm somewhere safe. What about you?"

"I'm safe too. Did you, Sam, and Elsa get away?"

"Yes, but we're laying low for a bit here. It's a long story, and I can't tie up the line." He paused, weighing his words. "Fi, can you get away from wherever you are?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I want you with me. Meet us in northern Wisconsin. Elsa has a place on Waldheim Lake. Now, I have to go, in case anyone is monitoring this line. I love you, Fi."

"I love you too, Michael. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Fi." With reluctance, Michael set down the receiver and pushed out a deep breath. He'd done all he could, and now it was up to Fi and... he looked up at the ceiling. Michael pushed himself out of the chair and left the office, and on his way back to Elmer's house he poked his head into the sanctuary. The Sisters were assembled for mass, so Michael stayed in back and knelt behind the last pew.

The last time he'd been in a church was for Nate's funeral. At the time when he leaned over his brother's body and whispered a vow that he would catch whoever killed him, he said a silent prayer at the same time for help in completing his quest. God rewarded him with finding Tyler Grey, but it all crumbled down around him, leading up to this point. He didn't think it could get much worse, but every step of the way something else happened to drag him and his friends into the CIA pit of hell.

Let this be the end. Please, give us a reprieve from all of this grief. I don't know how much more we can take.

Not sure if God heard him but hoping he did, Michael got up from the hard floor, slipped out of the church, and scurried into the darkening garden. He would have to hurry to make it back to Elmer's before sundown.

* * *

A few hours had passed and Elmer braved coming into the room. He gazed at his wife with helplessness and tears in his eyes, watching a strange man looking at things only he had ever seen. He took a step forward, but Elsa held him back.

"It's okay, Elmer. She's doing fine," she stated in a calm tone. "Sam is taking good care of her."

"She's really close, Elmer," Sam added.

"You mean, I coulda driven her to the city?"

"You could have, but she'd have been really uncomfortable all the way," Sam answered just as Louann tensed in another contraction. He turned his attention to her and coached her through it. "Don't forget. Breathe, Louann. Breathe."

"Sam," Louann cried. "I don't think I can do this anymore."

"Can we do anything for the pain," Elsa asked as she rifled through the duffel.

"No way, Elsa. We don't have anything for an epidural, if that's what you're thinking. Besides, it's kinda too late for that. I'm guessing any minute her water will break and then things will get moving." He smiled at Louann. "Then you'll be too busy to care about the pain."

Louann nodded, but by the look on her face she didn't believe him. Elsa fed her another ice chip and she worked on that for awhile, crunching it when the pain worsened again.

"How come it's takin' so long," Elmer asked.

"First ones usually do," Sam said. "Just relax, man. This baby is coming soon."

"A-are you a doctor," Elmer asked, nerves jittering his voice.

Sam shook his head. "No, but I've been trained in field medicine, and they cover stuff like this. Plus, my team and I had to deliver a baby in the back of a Humvee once in the middle of Afghanistan. It was quite the production, let me tell you." He smirked. "And that was a big baby. I'm thinking this one'll be a bit smaller." He glanced up at a movement in the doorway. "Hey Mike, glad you made it back!"

"How's it going?"

"Still going, but it won't be too long now."

"Oh no, oh no," Louann announced another contraction.

Elmer looked even more worried. Michael noted the fear on his face and how his body tensed as if he was gearing himself up to grab his wife and race her to the hospital. He couldn't blame the guy for not trusting a bunch of strangers who happened to appear at the right time and seemed to know what they were doing. Elmer's elbow brushed Michael's, and Michael shot out an arm to hold him back.

"Hey, Elmer, why don't we go outside for a minute, huh? I want to talk to you about that car we're buying from you."

"Huh?" His eyes darted to Michael and back to Louann screaming. His muscles resisted Michael's grip.

"Yeah, come on. Let's go. If Sam needs us, he'll call. Right, Sam?"

"We're good here, Mikey," Sam said as he gave him a thumbs up and took a position near Louann's bent knees. "Okay, just relax and let me see how far you are now."

"M-Mike, I'm scared," Elmer whispered in the hall so only Michael could hear.

"I know you are. Sam knows what he's doing, and Louann will be fine." He gripped the man's shoulders and led him outside. As he left through the front door, he heard Sam's voice over Luann's crying.

"Okay, that's what we were waiting for, Louann. You can push anytime you feel like it."

* * *

The water ran red, then pink, and finally it was clear. Sam scrubbed his hands and arms up to the elbow one last time before grabbing a fresh towel from the rack and drying himself. He glanced at his face in the mirror, noting the weariness etched into it. That was one long day, capped off with the miracle of birth. He smiled, sensing a swell of pride bubbling up inside.

"You okay, Sam," Michael asked as he stuck his head through the bathroom doorway.

"I'm fine. Just really tired right now."

Michael smiled. "I can understand that. You did a great job in there." He cocked his head toward the bedroom.

"Louann did the hard stuff. I just caught the kid." He laughed. "Where's Elmer?"

"He's in there with them. Elsa's crashed on the couch." Michael hesitated. "Is it okay for us to take off now? We've got darkness on our side if we can leave."

"I wanna check on Louann and the baby one more time before we go," Sam replied. He slipped past Michael and entered the bedroom, and he smiled wide at the beautiful sight.

Elmer and Louann lay on the bed with Elmer close to her side. She rested her head against his shoulder and her hand rested atop his on the place where little Samuel had been just a few hours earlier. The baby was in a wicker wash basket beside the bed, asleep, and he stretched as if he wanted to explore this newfound thing called open space. He pulled one little fist down, curled it into his mouth, and he sucked on the knuckles.

He was so precious, fragile looking yet so strong. Sam would never forget how the little boy's fingers wrapped around one of his and held on tight as Sam finished pulling him from his mother. He kicked and squalled at the abrupt entry into his new world, but he quickly settled down in Sam's hands.

The fact that his parents insisted on naming the baby Samuel blew his mind. He was honored, and a little worried. If their pursuers came to the house and interviewed the couple... He shook off those thoughts and prayed that they would be spared the wrath of the CIA. The sooner he and his team left, the better.

"Is Samuel alright," Louann spoke in a soft voice, trying not to wake her husband.

"He's fine, Louann." Sam picked up his namesake wrapped in a blanket and brought him to his mother. "I was just checking him one more time. We, uh, we have to get going."

"You're welcome to stay the night," Louann offered while her attention was on her little boy. "The second bedroom has a bed, and..."

Sam interrupted her. "Thanks, but we really do have to get on the road again."

"Alright." She looked up at Sam and smiled. "Thank you for everything you did. I don't know what I woulda done without you. Elmer was scared. I don't think he woulda got me to the hospital in time."

"Probably not." He caressed the baby's downy head. "You be a good boy, Sammy. Good luck, Louann." He rose from his perch on the edge of the bed. "We'll leave what we owe in the cookie jar in the kitchen."

"Owe? For what?"

"The car Elmer sold us."

She made a sound of protest and flapped her hand. "No, you go on! You don't owe us anything. After all you did, we should owe you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! I'm sure Elmer would agree with me." She nodded in dismissal. "You go on now, and God bless ya on the road. Hope ya don't have any more mishaps!"

"Thanks. And God bless you and your family." With one more glance at the new mother adoring her son, Sam left the bedroom and met up with Michael and Elsa in the living room. "Okay, we can go now."

"The car is all loaded up," Michael said. "I've had some rest, so I'll take the first shift."

"Well then I better let you know where we're going," Sam said. He pulled out a map that he'd taken from the glove compartment before they left the SUV. He showed Michael the route they were taking, and when he was satisfied that his friend understood the plan, he handed the map to him and moved to the couch to wake Elsa.

The three left the house and under the faint glow from the porch light they got into the car. Elsa sat up front with Michael and Sam took the back so he could sleep and take the second shift. By the time Michael reached the freeway, he was almost asleep. One last thought came to his mind, and he asked, "Did you get Fi on the phone?"

"Yes. She's going to do her best to find us."

"Good."

"Night, Sam."

"Drive careful, Mike."

"For sure." He had no intention of running into any hazardous patches of fog again. He had no doubt that they'd been protected so far, but Michael wanted to make it to their destination without another obstacle. Was that really too much to ask?


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Sam slept like a baby while Michael drove without incident and Elsa stayed awake in the hours before dawn, keeping an eye on Michael, worried about the tired droop of his eyelids. It was almost five, dawn was just over the horizon, and she remembered the summer trips to the cottage so many years ago and her efforts to keep Evan Sr. alert. In the light from the dash, Michael even resembled her late husband a little. With an impish smile on her face, she poked Michael's arm like she used to tweak Ev.

Michael's head whipped to the side and he blurted, "What was that for?" He cringed, afraid he'd wake Sam, but a quick look back assured him that his friend was still sleeping. Lowering his voice, he asked, "Why'd you do that?"

"Just making sure you were still awake," she replied. "Sorry if I startled you."

"No, it's okay." Michael focused on the road ahead. "I'm not usually that off, and there's no excuse for it."

"You're tired. That's a perfectly valid reason." She stretched and took a peek at the gas gauge. "We're getting low on fuel. Maybe you should pull over and then I can drive for awhile? Let Sam sleep a little longer." She looked over her shoulder at Sam and felt a wave of pity for him. "I never knew delivering a baby could be so draining for the person assisting. When I had Evan it was so easy with all the drugs and technology, I hardly even remember what it was like. It's a good thing everything turned out well yesterday. If there'd been complications or something, I don't even want to think about what Sam would have had to do."

"I'm just glad it worked out well."

Sam made a mumbling noise followed by a stretch and a moan. He sat up straight from his slumped position and ran a hand through his hair. "Ohh, hey. You still driving, Mike?"

"Yes, for a couple hours yet. You should go back to sleep." He eyed Sam's reflection in the rearview mirror.

"I'm fine, and I'll take over after the next pit stop." He leaned forward into the narrow space between the front seats. "No arguments."

Michael opened his mouth, but one look at Sam told him it was a fruitless battle. Most likely he would have another opportunity to drive again later, and if not, he would be well rested for whatever came their way. He shrugged it off and returned his attention to driving until the gas gauge moved into the red zone and an exit came with the convenience of a filling station. As Michael filled the tank, Sam got to his feet, stretched, and worked out the kinks from sleeping in the back seat.

"It's a little cramped back there, Mike, but if you're tired, it won't matter." Michael didn't answer him. He simply nodded, a move that Sam mirrored. "So, did you make the switch to I-sixty five?"

Michael's eyes grew wide. "Sixty five?"

Sam felt his stomach drop to his feet as he stared at Michael. "Oh brother, you missed it? Where are we now?"

A slow smile crept across Michael's face as he replied, "Sorry, Sam, I was just messing with you."

Sam laughed, even if his heart was racing. It wasn't often in the past few years that his friend made jokes like that. Perhaps this time might really do him some good. If only they knew whether Mike would be left alone to enjoy a real retirement, then Sam could relax a little. "You had me going there for a second, Mikey. Keep it up, pal, and there might be a really good prank waiting for you when we get to the cottage."

"Like when you slipped that dead fish into my combat boot during the mission in Bosnia?"

"Oh yeah, like I'll tell you," Sam replied with a smirk. "Just trying to keep you on your toes, brother."

At the sound of the word Sam often used to define his affection for his best friend, Michael fell silent and a picture invaded his mind, one of Nate smiling and laughing. His little brother hadn't done a lot of that from about the age of thirteen or so, and when he did, there seemed to be a hard edge to Nate's humor. If only he could have escaped the blowback of Michael's life. Maybe Nate would be with them now. Michael shook his head. Most likely he would be in Miami with Madeline, wondering when Michael would be home for good. In his retirement, Michael wanted to make a better life for his family. Instead, he was still running and God only knew when and how it would end. Hopefully the people who survived up to this point would still be alive after all was said and done.

The pump stopped and Michael replaced it with mechanical precision. After the gas was paid for and they took a break for necessities, Sam took the keys and drove. Long road trips were not on Michael's list of favorite activities. They were boring, and when he was a kid he would sometimes get carsick if he tried to read, so he didn't try. Sleep crept up on him by surprise as he relaxed under the steady vibration of the tires on the pavement. He thought about Sam and Elsa, and how fortunate he was to have him for a friend, and how much she must love Sam to let herself be dragged on this trip. No, she didn't allow him to do anything. Elsa volunteered to accompany them, and she offered up a place to stay. He recalled the look in her eyes, something he'd seen before in Fiona's when she was determined. Things were different with Sam, because he wasn't willing to lose her so he gave in to her demands to come along. With Michael, too often Fiona had been a casualty of his decisions and he sometimes justified them thinking that he was protecting her, when in fact all he did was endanger or hurt her further.

Michael let out a breath and tried to get off that thought, but it pursued him in his sleep, causing him to thrash about and mumble. Mumbling could be dangerous for a spy. Good thing he was with friends.

"He sounds so tortured back there," Elsa said, her brow furrowed and her hand squeezing Sam's on the console between them. "Is that the price of being a spy?"

"For Mike, yeah, it is." Sam blinked and looked at her. "I've never done that, have I?" The corner of his mouth tipped up into a smile.

"Occasionally, but I think you're reliving some battle," Elsa answered. "To be honest, sometimes it scares me."

Sam replied. "Believe me, I've seen a lot of stuff I wish I hadn't, and you either get over it or you go nuts." He shook his head. "I know a few guys who did the latter. You think I drink. I've got nothing on them."

"That's horrible."

"It is. But war has never been a picnic, and as it gets more sophisticated, in some ways it becomes even more brutal." He fell silent, his brain racing through the close calls in his life, recalling friends who in the blink of an eye were dead in the same place where they'd just cracked a sick joke. "I just thank God you've never had to witness it yourself."

Elsa laid her free hand over his and caressed it. "And being a spy means experiencing the worst the world has to offer, I take it."

"Yeah."

"I hope that this will be the solution to getting Michael away from that. He needs some sense of normal, and perhaps Fiona can help." She shifted in her seat. "Dammit, I wish she hadn't taken off the way she did!"

"If she hadn't, we wouldn't have gotten this far, that's for sure. Fi gave us an escape." Sam put on the turn signal and changed lanes, preparing to take the next exit. "I have a lot of faith in her. She'll find us. It's like there's this magnetic pull between her and Mike, and no matter how hard he tries to deny it, it'll never go away. And no matter how hard she tries to find someone else, she'll always gravitate back to Mike. That's just the way it is."

Elsa sighed, squeezed Sam's hand, and wore a sweet smile as she faced him. "Isn't love grand?" She laughed, and he laughed with her as he kissed the back of her hand.

The two fell into silence, not realizing that Michael heard every word of their conversation. The part about Fiona hit him like a splash of cold water to the face. It was true. He loved Fi, and she loved him. His friends and family just didn't seem to understand that it could never work because they were always at odds. As he drifted off to sleep again, Michael dreamed of a day when he was no longer a spy. He had no yardstick to measure against, to know what was normal. He could imagine it, but was it real? His weary brain picked a scenario and dwelt on it, pulling him down into a deep sleep.

_Michael knew the playground. It was where he and Nate played as kids. He turned around in a slow circle, taking in the details. Large oaks ringed the park where parents hung out with their kids, pushing them on swings, spinning the merry-go-round, and building sandcastles with them in the big sandbox. He wasn't sure why he was there._

"_Daddy! Daddy!"_

_For some reason, Michael responded to those words, and he turned to see a little boy with dark hair running toward him. His shoelace was untied and Michael winced as he stumbled but regained his balance and didn't stop until he reached Michael. His arms flew out wide just before his little body slammed into Michael's legs and enveloped them in a hug._

"_Nathaniel, be careful," Fiona admonished as she trotted behind and came to a stop in front of the two. "Michael, sometimes he's like a little freight train out of control, and I know he gets it from you."_

"_There are worse things he could have inherited, that's for sure." He smiled and looked down at the boy who resembled Fiona with the dancing blue green eyes and the impish smile. He didn't remember Fiona having a baby, and if she did, there was nothing about the boy that reminded Michael of himself._

"_Daddy, I wanna go on the slide, but Mama says it's too high."_

"_He'll fall and break his neck," Fiona protested._

_Michael looked beyond her and saw the slide. "It's not that high, maybe ten feet, twelve at the most." He got down on one knee and tied Nathaniel's shoelace. "Let's go. I'll spot you, okay?"_

"_Alright!" Nathaniel clapped his little hands in glee and spun, his little legs tearing across the grass toward the slide. Before Michael could get there, he was climbing the ladder as if he'd been doing it all his life._

"_Don't let him go too high alone," Fiona warned as Michael passed her and followed the boy to the slide._

_Over his shoulder, he answered, "I won't. Don't worry, he'll be fine." He gave her a reassuring smile._

_With hands on her hips, Fiona huffed. "That's what you always say, Michael, and look what happens? You go off on another mission, you get shot, almost blown up, do I need to go on?"_

_He stopped and turned back to her. "What are you talking about? I don't do that anymore."_

"_Daddy, come look at me! I'm on the top of the world!"_

_Michael turned back to the slide in time to see Nathaniel standing at the top of the ladder, waving his arms in triumph. In a heartbeat, his joy turned to terror as he leaned back too far and his balance was compromised. He screamed, reached for the rail but missed it, and fell backwards._

"_Nate! No!" Michael ran, clearing the space between where he stood and the slide in only a few long strides, and he held out his arms to catch the boy before he hit the ground. Michael's breath chugged like the beat of his heart, and he clamped Nathaniel in his arms and held him close to his chest._

_Nathaniel wrapped his arms and legs around Michael and held on tight, and Fiona joined them. She was the one to find her voice first, and she scolded both of them. "Nathaniel, don't ever scare us like that again! You're going to get yourself killed doing things like that."_

"_It's too late to worry about that, Fiona."_

_Michael pulled back and looked into the boy's eyes, and in that moment, he looked more like his brother Nate. Blood spattered his face, and he looked at Michael as if he'd disappointed him somehow. Michael released him, and Nathaniel dropped to his feet, but he wasn't a little boy anymore. He was his brother before him alive but bleeding._

"_Nate. What are you doing here?"_

"_You let me down, Bro. You were supposed to watch over my family if something happened to me."_

"_What? I didn't know." Michael's heart hammered in his chest and a sick feeling churned in his stomach. "I didn't know. You didn't tell me."_

"_You should have known that's what I'd want." He scoffed. "We were brothers, man. You knew me, you should have known this." He raised his hands and dropped them to his sides. "Now Ma's got nobody. I'm dead, you left her, and Ruth won't have anything to do with her, so she can't even see her grandson." He stared at Michael with cold eyes. "How's that feel, Bro? You always said I was the screw-up, but it's you who created this mess. It's all your fault."_

"_Nate, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…."_

"_You never do. It's just that you're all about you and your stupid burn notice. You should have just learned to live with it. Life hands you crap sometimes, Bro, and you just have to live with it." He shook his head. "You always want it both ways. Now you're on the run again and you want Fiona with you. Good luck with that."_

_Without another word, Nate disappeared. Michael turned and Fiona was gone as well, and he found himself in the middle of a thick forest, alone, with no path or sign where to go in order to get out of the woods. He was afraid to call for help and risk his enemies finding him, and without a map or other resources he was lost and had only one choice. He sat on a stump and waited. He would figure out a way to leap over this hurdle, or someone would come to his rescue._

_"Michael, did you really think you were going to get away?"_

_He gasped and his head came up, and he stumbled around his perch as he stood and turned in a full circle looking for the source of the voice. It sounded like Anson, but it couldn't be. Anson was dead. Michael was completely alone without any gear or means of survival, and it was getting dark. It was time to move, but which way? Where was his escape? His breath came in quick bursts, his heart feeling as if it would beat out of his chest, and he fought the childish urge to cry._

_"Mikey! It's okay, Mike, you're safe."_

_Sam. He released a breath and his shoulders slumped as he relaxed. He called out to him. "Sam! Sam, I'm here!"_

_"Come on, wake up."_

_"I'm awake. I'm not sleeping… I'm…"_

Michael opened his eyes, but it was dark other than the weak dome light shining on him. He sat up straight and looked around, trying to peer through the window at the darkness beyond the car. The passenger door was open on the driver's side and Sam was bent, half in and half out of the car with an extreme look of worry on his face.

Sam reached out to touch his arm. "Mike, it's okay. We're here."

"Here? Where?"

Sam glanced at Elsa standing outside the car. Michael recognized the look. It was one that told him that Sam was very concerned about his sanity. He had to do or say something that would convince him he was fine.

"I must have been dreaming," Michael said as he slid toward the open door.

"That was one hell of a dream," Sam muttered, gave Michael a hand, and half dragged him from the car. "For the last ten or twenty miles, you've been really restless and mumbling. Elsa wanted to wake you up, but I figured it might be dangerous in the middle of whatever you were into."

Michael was glad that Sam couldn't see his face and the look of sadness on it. Was he really that formidable even in his sleep? No, Sam was only protecting him. He knew the kinds of nightmares that invaded his sleep, because Sam had some of the same kind now and then himself. Only Michael's might have been a bit scarier, considering all he'd been through over the years. He was helping Michael save face, in his own weird way.

"Thanks." He peered into the darkness, but all he saw were the tips of pine boughs. "Where are we? Is this Elsa's place?"

Sam nodded. "It is."

"What time is it?"

"It's about nine-thirty pm Central," Sam answered.

"You let me sleep all day," Michael said. "Why? I could have driven…."

"Elsa and I took a vote and decided you needed some major rest," Sam interrupted. He gave him a smile. "Of course now you'll probably be up all night, but hey, it's not like you'll have anywhere to go or have to be someplace tomorrow. Welcome to retirement, Mikey!"

A sudden feeling of disorientation came over Michael. He'd heard the word so many times in his life. He'd seen how Sam dealt with it before they began to work together. The concept scared him more than a field full of unmapped landmines. Every challenge in his life he learned to face head on and conquer, and he resolved that this would be no different. Without a word he picked up his suitcase and followed Sam and Elsa through the dark. Sam held a flashlight that illuminated the overgrown path to the cottage that was about fifty feet from the car. A slight cool breeze set the leaves to singing a soft wispy song and blended with a chorus of gentle lapping of waves on the shore beyond the cottage. Michael couldn't see the water. He just knew that it was there because Sam told him the cottage was on a lake.

The porch light turned on and Sam opened the screen door wide. "Go on in, Mike."

"Thanks." He entered a long open space that ran along the width of the structure. A padded bench seat ran around two sides under a bank of windows, and an old refrigerator butted up against the siding. The room had obviously been an afterthought, constructed afterwards as a means to enjoy the fresh air without being exposed to the elements.

Elsa and Sam stepped up to the door that took them into the kitchen, and Sam continued moving forward and turned on a lamp in the living room. The light revealed three doors on the wall opposite the two rooms. The first led to a bedroom, the second was for a bathroom and the door that opened onto the living room was another bedroom.

"We'll take the room up front, Mike. You can have the one back there," Sam said.

"Sure. That'll be fine." Michael entered the room and used the kitchen light to navigate to the bedroom window. He pulled down the cheap vinyl blind and closed the curtains before he turned on the bedroom light.

A double bed with an old metal head and footboard pressed up against two walls to the right. On his left, a dresser was the only other piece of furniture in the room, and a closet door stood next to it. He heard someone through the wall in the bathroom, and it made him grateful for the buffer between the two bedrooms. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear what went on over there later.

"Mike," Sam announced himself by calling his name before sticking his head in the doorway. "Tomorrow morning Elsa and I will go into town to get some groceries. So don't feel like you've gotta get up early or anything, okay?"

"Sure, no problem. Night, Sam. See you tomorrow."

"Night," Sam said and disappeared, but not before he hesitated and gave Michael another look of concern. "Sam. Just go, I'll be fine. Really." He gave him a smile.

"Okay. Night, Mike." He locked the back door, turned off the kitchen light, and his feet padded toward the other bedroom. The living room light went out, and the door closed on him, leaving Michael alone again.

Only this time he felt safer than he had in a long time.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Twit. Twit. Twit."

The sharp sound was relentless, dragging Michael from a sound sleep that he'd fallen into just a few hours earlier.

"Twit. Twit. Twit."

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, the weight of weariness pinning him to the mattress as if he'd just lost a wrestling match. His eyes focused on a long, thin crack that meandered from the corner over his bed toward the closet and stopped about eighteen inches short.

"Twit. Twit. Twit."

Scowling, he rolled to his side and sat on the edge of the bed. He glanced at the floor where he'd shucked his clothes and left them, and he fished his gun out from underneath the pile. Whatever was making that noise could be a bird... or a trick. He wasn't taking any chances. With his free hand Michael pushed the curtain to the side and grabbed the bottom of the shade, pulling it up little by little until he could see out the window. His cautious work paid off, because he found himself nose to beak with a small bird sitting on a pine branch on the other side of the window glass. With every little hop, its slight weight caused the branch to bob and sway, but it clung to it with tiny, strong feet. If the window had been open, Michael could have snatched the little creature from its perch.

The bird saw him and said, "Twit. Twit. Twit."

"Same to you too, Twit," Michael murmured and dropped the shade. It slapped against the window, and mid-tweet the bird startled and flew away. A slow smile crossed Michael's face when he realized that he scared his unwanted morning visitor. "Peace and quiet," he moaned with happiness. He dropped onto the bed. The springs on the frame squeaked in protest, but he didn't care. The gun slid under the other pillow, and Michael rolled to his stomach and went back to pursuing sleep.

His brain registered that it was somewhere around mid-morning if the light filtering through the trees could be trusted. Sam and Elsa were either outside or still asleep, because he didn't hear any sounds inside the cottage. Then he remembered that Sam said they would go get groceries, so maybe they were doing that. Either way, he didn't care. All that mattered was that it was quiet, and perhaps for the first time in years he would sleep without one ear tuned to the world around him.

_If you're really alone, you should be more cautious, Michael._

"Dammit," Michael grumbled and shot up, half kneeling on the bed as he ran a hand through his hair.

He was hearing Anson's voice again, and this was no dream because Michael was wide awake. Maybe he'd finally cracked, and the man who proved to be the biggest thorn in his side was working from beyond the grave to drive him over the cliff of insanity. He wouldn't let that happen, not as long as he still had a shred of reason left. A thud shook the structure, but before Michael could take up a defensive posture, he heard Elsa's voice.

"He's still in there," she said.

"I think he was up until about four," Sam responded. "I heard him walking around for quite awhile. That long sleep in the car probably didn't help, but hey, that's okay, he'll get into a regular rhythm after a few days, I'm sure."

"If he can relax."

"Yeah." Crinkling mixed with the dull bang of cupboards opening and closing. "Oh, Baby, that's disgusting."

"What?"

"The fridge. We should have cleaned it out before we went shopping." He paused and let out a breath like he was gagging, and Michael heard the door latch as it closed. "How long has this place been sitting unused?"

"My son Evan was up here about a year ago, I think," Elsa replied. "I told him to make sure the fridge was empty and clean before he left. I guess…." She stopped and turned at the sound of Michael's door opening. She smiled at him and said, "Good morning, Michael. I hope we didn't wake you."

"No. The neighbor did." He shuffled into the kitchen and peered inside a couple of the paper bags on the table in the center of the room.

"Neighbor? We don't have any neighbors for a couple hundred yards or so on either side," Elsa said.

"Well, this one was quite insistent on waking me," Michael said. He imitated the bird, and despite his weariness, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk. "I think he was introducing himself."

"At least you didn't get to meet Mr. Chip Munk," Sam countered. "He was squatting in the bottom dresser drawer, but he's been evicted. I'm surprised Elsa's scream didn't wake you up this morning when she discovered him."

"Not to mention Sam's thundering around trying to catch the thing," Elsa added.

Michael's eyebrow rose as he pulled a container of yogurt from a bag and opened it. "Did you get him?"

Sam reached into the silverware drawer and pulled out a spoon. "No, but I will. I also found out where he was sneaking in, so I stopped at the hardware store and picked up some stuff to plug the hole. Mr. Munk is going to have to find some other place to live from now on."

Just before dipping into his blueberry yogurt, Michael's hand froze with the spoon dangling over the open container. If there had been chipmunks living in the place, what about mice? He remembered an infestation in his house when he was a kid, and how one morning he opened the silverware drawer and found a brown and white furred, beady-eyed little critter sitting in the bowl of a tablespoon, staring at him while munching on the corner of a saltine. Better to be safe than sorry, Michael set down the yogurt and went to the sink to wash the spoon before using it.

Elsa watched him and said, "I should probably clean everything in the cupboards just to be safe, but I haven't seen any mouse droppings or anything, so it's probably okay." As she spoke, she dumped a box of cereal into a clear sealable container with a pouring spout. "Sam, just leave everything on the table. I'll take care of the kitchen, scrub it top to bottom and put this all away. You two go do something so I can work." She smiled at Michael. "Enjoy the nice weather and the peacefulness out here."

"That's a great idea," Sam said as he headed for the back door. "Hey Mikey, get dressed. I'll need your help getting the boat ready."

"Boat," Michael asked around a mouthful of yogurt.

"Yeah. There's a fishing boat in the garage. I wanna make sure the engine's good before I haul it out and put it in the water." His smile turned into a grin. "There are plenty of poles, I already checked." He rubbed his hands together with glee. "It's been awhile since I've been freshwater fishing. It'll be fun."

Fishing? Was that all there was to do out in the wilderness besides sleep and converse with tweeting birds? Michael groaned and returned to the bedroom. He set his yogurt on the dresser and opened his suitcase, looking to see what other clothes Sam and Elsa had bought him. So far he couldn't complain, but knowing his friend's taste for loud shirts, he wasn't sure what he would find at the bottom. The wildest pattern turned out to be on a pair of bright green and black swim trunks. He held them up and thought they really didn't look half bad. He stuffed them into a drawer and dressed in a pair of jeans and a dark green polo shirt.

Michael put the rest of the things away in the closet and dresser, keeping an eye out for chipmunks or other rodents. He found no sign of anything inhabiting the drawers or the closet, and he breathed a sigh of relief, taking in the scent of the cedar closet. It made him smile. He liked that smell. Michael put on his shoes, finished his yogurt, and in the bathroom he prepared himself for the day. His eyes locked on the dark circles under his eyes. Sam was right, taking that long sleep in the car threw him off, but by evening he would surely get back into the rhythm of real life, whatever that was. He shrugged under his new shirt. That's one of the reasons he was there, besides hiding from the CIA, of course, to figure out how to be a civilian and become indoctrinated into that lifestyle.

"Hey, Mikey, I was beginning to think you went back to bed," Sam greeted him when Michael approached the open garage door. Sam returned his attention to the open hatch in the boat's stern. The structure where it was stored was more like a small warehouse, because no way would the cruiser fit into a normal garage. Michael moved around the boat to the back and climbed the short ladder to the main deck. The boat was named "Money Pit", the moniker painted in rich maroon and gold across the back in fancy script. He eyed the name and hesitated climbing aboard.

Sam's head came up from below and he wore an amused smile. "I don't think the name is indicative of the condition of the boat, Mike." His arms were smeared with grease up to his elbows, and a smudge graced his cheek. "According to Elsa, it's been sitting like this since before Evan Sr. died, but after a tune up and some cleaning, it should be fine."

"So it could take all day just to get it in the water," Michael declared, his hands clinging to the rail as he leaned back and gave the boat another good look.

"Like we have anywhere to be," Sam bit back with a light tone. "Come on, relax, Mike! We've got all the time in the world right now. You're under wraps, the CIA has no idea where you are…."

"As far as we know."

"Yeah, well, when Elsa and I were in town I found a pay phone and called Maddie." Sam paused. "I was gonna tell you, and I guess now is as good a time as any."

"You called my Mom?" Michael's eyes grew wide. "What did she say?" He leaped over the rail and joined Sam on the deck to stare into the bowels of the boat. The unexpected cleanliness of the engine almost tore him off track, but not quite.

"She said the CIA paid her a visit, which wasn't surprising," Sam answered. He dropped into the hold and grabbed a wrench sitting on the deck. As he worked and Michael assisted him, Sam continued. "They warned Maddie that if she knew where you were, it would go easier on her if she told them. They didn't believe her when she said that she didn't know, so now they're following her everywhere."

"Another expected outcome," Michael muttered.

"Yeah, well don't worry, 'cause you know your Ma can handle herself. And in case you're wondering, I called the burn phone number that they don't have a trace on, so no worries." He looked up and saw the concern in Michael's expression. "She's fine, Mike. And… she gave me a message from Fi."

Michael's eyes locked onto Sam's, his mouth hanging open in anticipation of what he had to say. "Fi was in contact with my Mom?"

"Apparently. She said that she would see you in a couple days on the Emerald Isles when the sun drops over the forest. Anybody listening would think she was going to Ireland, but Mike, there's a bar in town called The Emerald Isles. God only knows how she knew that, considering that I'm always the guy with the intel. She had to do her own homework." He nodded and wore a soft smile. "She'll be here soon."

"How will I know when… when the sun drops over the forest." Michael snapped his fingers. "Are you up for heading into town tonight for a beer or two?"

"Did you really have to ask, Mike?" Sam laughed. "Now, get down here and help me with this. It would be nice to have her ready to sail before Fi gets here."

They had no idea when Fiona left Florida or how long it would take a single woman to drive to Wisconsin, but Michael assumed with confidence that he and Sam would frequent the bar for the next few nights in the hope of finding her. Working on the boat all day kept part of his mind off the excitement that grew inside. Now and then he caught himself daydreaming about how it would be when they reunited. He'd been so focused exclusively on the mission for so long, the first time he caught himself in the clouds, Michael almost dropped a tool on his toes. Sam poked him and smiled. Was it that obvious in his expression? He'd perfected the poker face to a fine art, and he thought he covered his emotions well, but maybe he wasn't as good as he thought when it came to Fiona.

"You know you guys missed lunch," Elsa scolded as she entered the garage late in the afternoon. "But you're not missing supper. I've had some ribs marinating all day, and now I want to get the grill going, but it won't ignite. Did either of you see any lighter fluid in here somewhere?"

Michael wiped the teakwood oil off his hands as he scanned the shelves from his bird's eye view. "Uh, over there, I think."

"Great. Thanks." Elsa smiled up at him. "I'll get that grill going and make you the best ribs you've ever had. Then later, we can go to the Emerald Isles."

Elsa knew. Michael returned the smile and went back to work, putting a little more effort into buffing the wood rail until it sparkled in the late afternoon sun that streamed in the windows. He and Sam worked until they detected the scent of meat and spicy sauce cooking on the grill.

"We better get cleaned up," Sam said as he tossed aside his rag. "Tomorrow morning we can put her in the water, I think."

"Sounds good to me," Michael replied as his stomach growled in protest for missing lunch. But even more than supper, he looked forward to going to the Emerald Isles to get the lay of the place and acclimate the locals to them so their presence wouldn't be noteworthy when Fiona did arrive. Also, he had the strangest desire to see if a beer consumed in retirement tasted any better than one drunk on the job.

* * *

The door creaked and Sam cringed. He stopped, waited to hear if Michael responded on the other side, but he didn't, so he pushed it open just a little more. They hadn't stayed too long at the bar the night before, and none of them drank too much, but it had been a long day for his friend. When they arrived at the cottage, Michael went right to his room, and Sam and Elsa hadn't heard a peep out of him since. He opened the door all the way and found Michael on his back, arm flung over his head, the other buried under the pillow on the other side of the bed. Sam noticed that he kept to one side as if Fiona had been sharing the bed with him. He smiled for a moment, then frowned, hoping that the news of Fiona's impending arrival wasn't building up false hope in Mike. Anything could happen between Florida and Wisconsin. Sam didn't like that thought, but it was a reality that needed to be considered.

"Mike," Sam spoke in a soft tone, not wanting to startle him. "Hey, Mike, it's time to go fishing."

"Hmmm? The boat's not even in the water," Michael replied and rolled to his side as his eyes opened to slits.

"I know, but the sooner we get it in the water, the sooner we'll be out there putting the fear of God into those scaly suckers." Sam grinned, barely able to contain his excitement.

Michael opened his eyes all the way and took in Sam's outfit. He wore a pair of knee-length shorts with pockets down the sides, a bright yellow t-shirt, and a fishing vest.

His grin widened as Michael eyed him and he said, "This was Evan's, but Elsa said it looks better on me so she's letting me wear it. Come on, up and at 'em, grab some breakfast, and let's go!" He leaned over, tapped Michael on the arm with the palm of his hand, and whirled toward the door. "I'll get the boat hitched up to the Jeep while I'm waiting."

"The Jeep?" Michael sat up and blinked.

Sam stopped and turned. "Yeah, this morning, I was trying to figure out how to haul the boat to the dock with that car we have, when I saw the Jeep parked off to the side in the garage, covered by a tarp," he explained. "I guess we were so focused on the boat, I didn't think to go rooting around looking for anything else." He let out a breath. "Anyway, it runs fine, so I'm going to get it out, hook it up to the trailer, and get ready to put her in the water. I'll need your help to do it, so shake a leg, Mikey."

With that, Sam was gone and the door latch clicked behind him. "I guess I better get up," Michael mumbled.

"Twit. Twit. Twit."

Michael pulled up the shade and saw the same bird that had been there the morning before. He stared at it, and two little beady brown eyes stared back at him.

"Twit."

Dropping the window covering, Michael groaned, "I thought retired people were supposed to be able to sleep in, but not me. Even Twit wants me up."

Michael heard the screen door slam and knew he better get a move on before Sam grew impatient.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Good morning, Michael," Elsa greeted him with a smile shot over her shoulder. She stood in front of the range cooking something, the fragrant odor hitting his nostrils and bringing a smile to his face.

"Elsa, you amaze me," he said.

"Why?" She raised an eyebrow and looked at him.

"I didn't think you'd know how to cook. I mean, with your lifestyle, and..." He cut himself off. "I'm sorry, I meant no offense."

"None taken." Elsa flapped a hand and returned to her work. "You want some coffee to take with you? I'm making breakfast wraps for you guys to take on the boat."

"You're not coming with us," he asked. Old habits die hard he learned as a twinge of unease crept up from his core. It wasn't safe for her to be alone. How could Sam even think of leaving her behind to be ambushed by anyone who may have picked up on their trail?

"Michael, is everything alright?"

"What?" He'd been caught wrapped in his rambling thoughts, and he sensed a slight heat filling his cheeks. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine." He took a step forward and picked up the insulated travel mug and busied himself with filling it. Outside the window over the sink, he saw movement and watched the boat roll past and the Jeep with Sam in the driver's seat.

"You better hurry. He'll have that thing in the water with or without you," Elsa said with a soft snort. "He can't wait to get out on that lake."

Setting the coffee pot under the brewer, Michael sealed the mug and turned to look at her, giving Elsa the niggling feeling that he was staring. She faced him with the spatula in her hand, held in such a way that some people could take out a jugular with just a swipe. He didn't think Elsa had the know-how, but then again, she was Sam's girlfriend. Anything was possible, as evidenced by how much spy knowledge she already seemed to have. He swallowed a bit of the hot coffee.

"You know, for a spy you're pretty transparent sometimes," she said with a smirk. "I know you're worried about me being here by myself. Well, stop it. I can handle it, and Sam and I discussed this already. We're both pretty confident that we lost any tail we might have had after that accident in Georgia."

"Possibly. I don't want to take chances."

Elsa sighed, flipped the eggs in the frying pan, and dropped the spatula on the counter. She approached him with a smile and patted his cheek. "Someday you'll shake all that paranoia, and you'll look back and wonder how you could have ever done that to yourself." Her smile widened. "Hopefully Fiona will be here soon to help you forget. That's why I'm sticking around here, in case she shows up." She filled up her own cup with coffee.

"Fi has directions to this place? Did Sam give them to her?"

"No, she just knows the general area where we are," Elsa replied. "Sam couldn't risk giving Maddie the coordinates, or he would have." She returned to the frying pan and finished creating breakfast for the men. "We'll meet her at the Emerald Isles. You'll see, I know she'll be there, come hell or high water."

A door thudded and Michael glanced through the window to see Sam heading for the porch that faced the lake. His feet thumped up the steps and he stopped at the screen. "Hey, you comin' or not, Mike?"

"I'm coming, Sam." Michael took a loud slurp of his coffee.

Elsa chuckled and dropped the eggs onto the flat breads, rolled them in foil, and handed them to Michael. "Here you go. Have fun, and don't worry about me. I'll let you guys know if anything seems suspicious."

Michael still wasn't convinced that leaving Elsa by herself was a good idea, and it showed on his face. With his hands full, he stood frozen in place studying her. She was in good shape, and no doubt Sam had taught her a few things about self-defense. He feared that if a group of men came upon their hiding place, the wooded lane leading into the property and the surrounding woods were thick with trees, mostly saplings, providing cover against their approach so she would never know what hit her until it was too late.

"Just go, will you? You're really starting to piss me off, Michael," Elsa spat and gave him a shove toward the door. "I have a lot of work to do in here to get this place in shape, and I want to be ready for when Fiona arrives. So go!"

She nudged him again and he turned, reluctant but respectful of her tenacity. Sam stood in the doorway, his form in shadow on the screen. Without another word, Michael reached the door, and Sam held it open for him. He was smiling like a kid who just got his favorite toy back after losing it.

"See you later, Sweetheart! Call if you need us."

She poked her head around the kitchen door frame and replied. "I will, Sammy. Just go catch some fish, but don't bring home anything that'll be too fishy. You know what I mean?"

Shaking his head and flapping a hand at her, Sam said, "I'll see what I can do. This isn't a restaurant, you know."

Elsa laughed and spun away, disappearing into the kitchen. "Love you too, Sammy!"

A smile broke out on Sam's face and he chuckled. "So we have our orders. You ready, Mikey?"

"As soon as we get the boat in the water," Michael answered as he turned to where Sam pointed, and he gaped. "You..."

"It's still on the boat trailer, but I got it this far. How about I unhitch it and you pull the Jeep away?" Sam led the way to the dock as he spoke and took Michael's load. "I'll take care of this. Just park over by the garage and we'll put the trailer in there later."

"Okay, sounds good," Michael relinquished the wraps and his coffee mug to Sam's care and he got into the Jeep.

Sam secured the boat to the dock and gave Michael the signal to move the trailer. A short time later, Sam was at the helm with Michael sitting in the seat opposite him, munching on the breakfast Elsa made while Sam backed away from the dock, turned the boat, and headed out to a prime fishing spot on the lake.

"Do you have a site in mind," Michael yelled over the roar of the engine and the spray from the wake.

"Yep. See those boats out there?" Sam pointed toward a congregation of five smaller boats. "Those guys know where the fish are biting."

As they neared the group, Michael sized up the other vessels and compared them to the Money Pit. The cruiser was bigger than anything out there, and when Sam cut the engine and glided into a stop, the other fishermen's heads rose and all eyes were on the newcomers.

"We don't exactly blend in," Michael muttered as Sam dropped anchor. The boat rocked, and he asked, "How deep is it here?"

Sam glanced at a panel on the dash. "Twelve feet, Mike. This isn't a very deep lake, just so you know." He turned a smug smile on him. "Worried about having to swim for it?" He laughed.

"No, I just felt something."

"Nothing to worry about. That was just the anchor hitting bottom." Sam drained his travel mug, turned, and took up a position in the stern. A cooler sat on the teakwood deck, and he lifted the lid to glance at the contents. "Yeah, we've got everything we need. There's plenty to drink, and Elsa packed some lunch in there in case we're out that long. Come on, Mike, sit down, or stand, whatever you prefer. Let's get fishing!"

The entire time Sam spoke with a soft voice in deference to the others and no doubt trying not to scare the fish. Michael joined him on the deck, took up one of the rods resting in an angled bracket, and attached a lure. It had been so long since he fished, he wasn't sure if he was doing it right. Watching Sam reassured him that he was on the right track. Sam had two rods with bait and lures in the water before Michael cast out his first line. Michael watched the end of the line sail over the water and land with a soft plop several yards away.

As he set the rod into it's bracket, Michael heard a thunk followed by the unmistakable short hiss of pressure escaping and the chink of a bottle cap hitting the deck. It was a little early to be drinking, but when Sam was truly relaxed, he usually had a beer in his hand. Michael turned to see him tipping back a bottle, settled into a cushy deck chair, watching his lures bob on the surface. He glanced around at the nearby fishermen, and to his surprise nearly all of them had a grip on a beer. So maybe he was wrong, and drinking beer at nine in the morning on a beautiful calm lake was what all the fishermen did around these parts. Still, he wasn't quite ready to join them.

The morning wore on and Michael tired of fishing. He caught a few but they were small and Sam advised him to release them back into the water. Sam caught a couple of trout that were worth saving, but it seemed that once the sun was high in the sky, the good fish went into hiding. Two of the boaters bugged out, and two others closed in until the sides touched, and the occupants chatted and spent more time drinking than minding the lines. Their voices grew louder and floated over the water in a garbled low key, but he could pick out bits and pieces of the conversations. Fortunately, he and Sam were not the subject.

"I suppose that's it," Sam said with a sigh that reflected his disappointment. "Let's pack it up and take a little cruise around the lake. I wanna get a good idea of what we've got out here, and maybe we'll find another good place to fish."

"Sure. Why not." Michael shrugged and stood, and he reeled in his line as Sam stowed his rods. "Is this all there is to do around here?"

Sam laughed. "Bored already, huh?" Sam opened the cooler, pulled out another beer for himself and one for Michael. "Considering we want to keep on the down-low for awhile, yeah. When it appears that we're not being chased, we'll go into town and explore a little." He started the boat and waved to the other fishermen before putting on the throttle and leaving the area. "You know what your problem is, you're so used to doing something all the time that you can't sit still for more than five minutes without getting antsy."

"I've been on plenty of stakeouts that required me to sit around doing nothing for hours," Michael countered.

"That's not the same. I'm talking about having time to relax and just breathe. I mean, really, just get a good whiff of that breeze, Mike!" He lifted his face toward the sun and took in a deep breath to show his friend how it was done. "That's fresh air, my friend, and it smells a lot different than Miami air. Enjoy it."

Sam took the boat on a long trip around the perimeter of the lake. There were three islands in the center of it, situated in such a way that from Elsa's property it appeared that a river led from the lake off to some other place. Cottages and homes littered the shoreline with untouched wilderness dotted here and there. A wetland area marked with no trespassing signs caught Michael's eye, and the herons that sunned themselves in the grassy area reminded him of home. Sam got close enough to startle most birds, but these creatures glared as if daring the boaters to come closer and encroach on their turf to face the consequences. The boat turned away and Sam drove it toward the island nearest to Elsa's dock.

"Sam, what are you doing," Michael asked. He hung onto the windshield frame and watched the island increasing in size.

"I wanna check out this island, Mike. See if anyone's living on it, for one, and if not, scope it out as a possible location to hide if necessary." Sam smirked. "Jeez Mike, don't tell me you're getting soft already."

Michael chuckled. "No chance of that. I just hadn't given it a thought, really. I'm only concerned about getting familiar with everything around us, and well, you're right. These islands could be cover for us in a pinch."

"This island is close enough that if we were desperate and it was night, we could swim across the lake and get here," Sam added with a nod. "There's no dock, so I'm betting that this is untouched land." He slowed the boat and it slid to an abrupt stop.

"Uhoh, that's not good," Michael mumbled and looked over the side.

The sunlight drilled through the shallow water, showing the sandy bottom. Sam leaned over the starboard side and spoke. "It looks like we ran into a sand bar. No problem, we'll just push it out later." He hopped up to a narrow walkway between the cottage and the rail and balanced himself as he took quick steps to the bow. Michael watched, impressed by his sea legs. Sam stepped over the rail and leaped into the water, sending up a weak splash as his feet hit the bottom.

"Hey Mike, you staying on the boat?"

"Uh, yeah. I don't feel like getting my feet wet," Michael replied. He wasn't thrilled with the idea of picking his way along the side of the boat like Sam did. He had good balance, but the wave action in the little lagoon created by the crescent shaped island caused the boat to roll enough to throw him off.

"Ha, you're being a real party pooper today," Sam said. "I'll be back in five." Sam trudged through the thick loose sand on the small beach and entered the patch of trees that covered the island almost to the shoreline.

Michael studied the sand. It wasn't fine like the soft, white sand on Miami beaches. It was coarser and darker, more tan. He also noticed by the footprints in it that he and Sam weren't the only visitors to the island. Not surprising. He caught sight of something bright orange bobbing in a tangle of branches from a tree that long ago had cracked at the trunk and fallen into the lake. He pulled out a pair of binoculars and zeroed in on it. The child's floaty was half deflated and caught in the spaghetti-like mass of branches.

Sam's scream sent gooseflesh up Michael's arms and caused him to drop the binoculars on the driver's seat. Without a thought regarding his balance, Michael jumped onto the walkway, trotted to the tip of the bow and cleared the rail as he leaped over it. He tried to clear the water but his feet landed in the lake, soaking his jeans up to the knee. However, Michael didn't care, especially when Sam screamed again.

"I'm coming, Sam!" He tore into the woods using the path that he hadn't seen before. He spotted fresh wet prints and followed them into the center of the island. He came out of the trees and brush into a small clearing, stopped, and with his breath heaving, he turned around in a slow circle, hoping to spy his friend somewhere nearby. "Sam! Where are you?"

Leaves rustled, and Michael looked up just in time. His eyes widened and he jumped back, and Sam dropped out of the tree legs first, landing on his feet, grinning at Michael and laughing.

"Man, I thought you were going to leave me hanging around up there all afternoon," Sam teased.

"Sam. I thought you were in trouble," Michael spoke in a low tone and timbre, the way he did whenever he was not amused.

"Sorry, Mike. Hey, remember I warned you I might pull something on you, well, I couldn't resist." He grinned and spread his arms out wide. "I figured this was as good a place as any."

Michael ignored him and surveyed the area. "Is this a private campground?" He noted a couple of patches where the underbrush had been cleared away. A small fire pit ringed by stones and set up with log seats around it took up the center of the clearing.

"Kinda looks that way, doesn't it," Sam said. "I don't think it's been used recently, though. The brush is growing back in those spots." He tilted his head toward the cleared areas. "So, anyway, I say we keep an eye on this place, especially at night. If we see any light over here we know we can't use it for an escape. We'll check out those other islands as backups."

"That sounds like a good idea," Michael agreed. "We should probably get back, though. Elsa might get worried about us."

"Yeah." Sam looked at Michael, chuckled, and slapped a hand on his shoulder. "Mike, you should have seen the look on your face. I'm surprised you didn't pull out a gun."

"That was my next move," Michael said as he recalled that he'd dropped a hand back to where he kept his weapon. "When I heard something coming down from the trees, I almost had it out. Then I realized it was you." He shoved Sam away. "Nice going. I could have shot you."

"Oh, I know you wouldn't do that to me, Mikey. You couldn't even do it that time we were in that chemical refinery trying to catch Anson."

At the sound of the name, Michael stopped walking through the woods and clamped his eyes shut. He sensed Sam stopping and felt his eyes on him. Sam touched his shoulder, the light pressure showing his concern.

"Mike?"

"I'm fine," he answered through gritted teeth. He let out a tortured breath, rolled his head so he looked up and saw nothing but blue sky and a few wispy clouds, and his entire body felt as if his strings had been cut. He didn't want to admit his weaknesses, but Sam was his best friend. He would figure it out sooner or later. Michael blurted out the truth. "I... I've been having dreams about Anson."

"And he was dropping out of trees," Sam declared.

"No, but he might as well," Michael replied, running a hand through his hair as he pulled away from Sam. "I can't seem to get away from him. He pops into my dreams, and my thoughts, at the worst times."

"He's dead. You saw that yourself," Sam assured him. "The people who worked with him are gone, thanks to you, so you've got nothing to worry about. Well, other than the Agency wanting you dead for the stupidest reason ever." Sam clapped a hand on Michael's shoulder. "Let's go, Mike. By the time we get back and take care of the gear and clean those fish, it'll be time for Elsa to do her Julia Child thing and turn those trout into a feast."

Michael glanced at his watch. Sam was right, the day was moving faster than he anticipated. "Okay, we'll check out the other islands tomorrow."

Sam reached the bow and pressed his shoulder into it as he pushed and tried to loosen the boat from the sandbar. "I'm going to need some help here. This thing is stuck pretty good."

Michael found a place to set his hands and he and Sam pushed on the bow. The boat moved a little, but the sand would not give up its prize. They tried again and again, but it refused to move another inch.

"I can't believe this," Sam muttered as he dropped his hands to his sides. "We're really stuck."

At that moment, the sound of a small outboard motor putting and sputtering caught their attention. The two peered around the bow to see a long flat boat pull up on the port side, and two of the fishermen from earlier in the day smiled at them.

"Hey there. Looks like you guys got yerself stuck a bit, hey?" The older of the two observed with an amused smile. He looked like he was in his twenties, tall and lean with muscular arms and legs which he showed off with a t-shirt and shorts. An explosion of auburn curls crushed under a fishing hat that obscured the freckles splattered across his nose and cheeks.

"Yeah, we did a bit," Sam replied.

"My dad did that with his boat once," he said. "The best way to get to this island is with a flat boat or a smaller fishing boat. My friends and I do it all the time when I'm here." He slipped out of his shoes and leaped over the side of the boat to join Sam and Michael in the water. He held out his hand. "Dillon McCready. That's my brother Patrick. Our folks own the bar in town, the Emerald Isles."

"Really?" Sam smiled and shook Dillon's hand. "We were just there last night. Chuck Finley, and this is my friend..."

"Michael McBride," Michael introduced himself with a smile, the corner twitching for Sam's eyes only. The old alias held a lot of meaning for him, and for Michael to pull it out in such an abrupt manner was a sign to be wary. Sam nodded, acknowledging Michael's caution.

Dillon seemed oblivious to the silent exchange. He said, "The trick is someone has to drive the boat while you get a bunch of people to push on the bow." He turned to address his brother. "Patrick, get up on the boat and start 'er up. We'll push from here."

"Okay, Dil," Patrick responded and reached up, grabbed the rail, and despite his appearance, hauled himself over it with grace.

"When he gets the boat in gear, we'll push," Dillon instructed them. "Ready, Patty?"

"Ready, Dil."

Patrick turned the key, and suddenly the world boomed and flashed around them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Getting blown up was not part of Michael's retirement plan, but with his life, nothing was certain and dreams and wishes were things that hardly ever came true. One moment he and Sam had their shoulders into the bow and Dillon pushed from the starboard side, and in a flash his body flew backwards several feet. He landed on his back in the shallow water and it closed over him. He could still see the blue sky with wavering clouds, and he gasped at the shock. Water filled his mouth and flooded his throat, and reflexes kicked in, causing him to sit and hack up the water. To his relief, Sam did the same nearby. They were both soaked to the skin with hair plastered to their heads, fighting for air. Sam crawled the few feet to the sand and collapsed, and when he knew his friend was safely out of danger of drowning, Michael followed him.

"Patrick! Patrick!" Dillon screamed his name over the crackle of flames.

The wetness on their backs warmed quicker than the sun could manage. Michael coughed up more water and stared at the flaming boat, and Sam rolled to his side to assess the situation. "Mike... the boat..." He sucked in a large breath, coughed until he almost passed out, and dragged himself to his feet. "Dillon, get away from there!"

"Sam..." Michael mumbled and struggled to get to his knees and he watched Sam wade into the water to catch Dillon before he attempted to climb onto the floating pyre. The younger man's age and his ability to bounce back quicker from the explosion gave him an advantage over Sam, whom he pushed into the water before moving toward the boat. Michael rose and forced his legs to slog through the water. He tackled Dillon and the two missed being seared by the flames as they struggled. Dillon rose to his feet and Michael stood, trying to find a restraining hold on the younger man.

Sam stood in the water looking for an in to assist Michael when he spied something floating behind the boat in deeper water. It looked like a body. Before he would get anyone excited about whether it was Patrick, Sam pushed through the water and when it reached his waist he lurched forward and grabbed him.

"Patrick," Sam rasped as he rolled the kid to his back and let out a relieved breath when he found a faint pulse. The boy's clothes had been shredded and looking at the rate of blood loss, Sam said a prayer of thanks that they weren't in the ocean. He grabbed a fistful of Patrick's t-shirt and pulled him to the beach. "Hey! You guys wanna knock it off and give me a hand? Patrick's alive, but barely."

The two stopped in mid-punch and stared at Sam hauling the boy's body past them. The fists dropped as if they were made of lead and the two scrambled to grab Patrick and help Sam bring him to the shore.

Dillon was beside himself, blubbering around his words, making them an incoherent mess. "What do we do?"

"Retrieve your boat," Michael replied with a calm voice.

"Oh, o-okay," Dillon stammered and hurried to where he'd last seen the flat boat.

"You think it survived that blast," Sam asked. He checked for respiration and found none, so he levered the kid's head to start rescue breathing.

"I don't know. I just needed to get Dillon focused on something else for a minute. Do you think his brother's going to be okay?" Michael checked the pulse at the boy's wrist.

"Don't know," Sam replied in between breaths.

"I found it! Hey, Michael, I found it!" Patrick tugged on a rope attached to the flat bottom boat and brought the front end up to the shore. "Can we go now? Huh? He's gonna need a doctor." Dillon's eyes locked on his brother.

"Hang on, Dillon. S... Chuck is trying to get him breathing again."

As if on cue, Patrick coughed and took his own breath for the first time since the explosion. He writhed under Sam's hands holding him down and he opened his eyes to see everyone smiling at him. When he found his voice it was weak, but Patrick asked, "Wh-what happened?"

"A miracle, that's what," Dillon exclaimed through happy tears. "You should have been blown into little itty bits, but you're alive, Paddy." He asked Michael, "Now can we go?"

"Yes. Let's be careful with him," Michael exclaimed as he took Patrick's legs. Sam got him under the arms and the two carried Patrick to the boat. Fortunately for them, the kid was too weak to fight and he was easy to lay in the boat.

"Dillon, get us out of here," Michael ordered.

Dillon nodded and pulled on the cord to get the engine started. It didn't catch. He tried again with no success. His actions turned desperate and by the fifth unsuccessful pull, his face bore his frustration as he growled under his breath. "It won't start. This thing won't start, and Patrick's gonna die, and Da... he's gonna kill me."

"Your Dad isn't going to kill you," Michael spoke to him with a calm, soothing tone and helped him sit on one of the bench seats. "The explosion probably did something to the motor. We'll have to get help some other way. Do you have a dry cell phone on you?"

Dillon shook his head. "No. No cell." His head jerked around searching the few things in the bottom of the boat, which consisted of fishing gear and a first aid kit.

Michael grabbed the kit and looked inside to find a few ancient bandages and some gauze. He handed it to Sam, and Sam worked on binding up some of the more serious wounds. "There's nothing on this boat to signal for help? No flare gun?"

"Who needs a flare gun on this lake," Dillon asked, Michael's distraction of solving a problem bringing him back down to earth.

"How far would you say it is to that shoreline," Michael asked as he pointed toward the dock in front of Elsa's cottage.

Dillon squinted and followed Michael's line of sight. "It's gotta be almost a mile, man."

"You two stay here, I'll be back with help." Without warning, Michael dove off the back of the fishing boat and pushed like a torpedo through the water. He came up with arms and legs churning, pacing himself but moving as quickly as he could.

"Is he serious? He's really gonna swim all that way?"

"Damn straight," Sam answered. "Dillon, get down here, I want you to put some pressure on that arm for me and stop the bleeding."

Dillon wrapped his hand around Patrick's upper arm and held the bandage in place. The blood soaked through the dressing and he pressed harder. "You know that water is like fifty five degrees or so. He's gonna freeze before he gets there."

Sam raised his eyes to meet Dillon's, and in his he displayed complete confidence in his friend. "Dillon, I've seen Mike do some amazing things over the years. I have no doubt he's going to make it across that distance without going into hypothermia." The corner of his mouth tipped up as he added, "He might need a blanket and some hot chocolate afterwards, but he'll do it. That's just how he is when a life is at stake."

Dillon nodded, unable to speak. He looked at the wound and noted that less blood seemed to collect on the gauze. Sam reached for his hand and pried it away, peeled the pad from Patrick's skin, and replaced it with another before binding up the wound.

"You're doing really great, Dillon. Patrick'll think you're a real hero." He smiled at Dillon.

"I-I didn't do nothin', other than what you told me to do."

"Sometimes the heroes are the ones who just keep it together and do what they're told," Sam assured him.

"Chuck, what happened? Why'd the boat blow up?"

Sam let out a long sigh. "I'm sure there'll be an investigation, and we'll find out then."

"I can't imagine anyone doing this on purpose, unless..." His head came up and he stared at Sam, gaping. "Do you think that this was some terrorist thing?"

"I doubt it. Terrorists usually go for maximum effect. They're not going to bother with just a few nobodies." Sam shook his head and glanced at what was left of the Money Pit. The hull was a melted, mangled glob burnt down to the waterline. It still smoked, but there was no danger from fire anymore. He didn't dare tell Dillon what he really thought. It wasn't terrorists but he suspected another enemy that had proven to be just as deadly. "Could have been a gas leak. I don't know. We'll just have to wait for an investigation and the official word."

"Official word," Dillon smirked. "You sound like those guys on TV, government types."

A staccato laugh came from Sam. "We're definitely not government types. We're just ordinary people who came out here to get some rest and relaxation."

"This place is usually pretty peaceful. Nothing ever happens around here," Dillon informed him. "We've had some losers come up now and then, especially during the winter. They rent cabins, snowmobile, and get drunk and high. Never see this kind of trouble."

"Look, it's going to be okay. I can bet that this'll all get figured out and then everything can go back to boring. I promise."

"I don't mind excitement. I just don't like it when my little brother gets in the middle of it." Dillon gazed at Patrick lying so still in the bottom of the boat. He was almost as pale as the boy.

Sam spied a pair of binoculars on the beach near the water's edge. He leaped over the side of the boat and waded to the shore to snatch them from the waves. The seals were still good and kept the glasses from becoming waterlogged. He held them up to his eyes and focused as he scanned for Michael. He found him, but he didn't like what he saw. His friend was having difficulty, his body affected by the cold water. From where he stood, Sam could only watch and hope that Michael made the last quarter mile.

He sucked in a breath when he focused on the shoreline and saw Elsa standing on the slight rise over the beach. She was watching Michael, but from so far away he couldn't see her expression. Sam didn't need to, because he knew her and how she would react. Her hands came up folded before her face when she realized it was Michael swimming toward her. Then she turned and ran toward the cottage, and for a moment Sam wanted to yell and warn her to be careful of whom she called for help. Instead, he bit back a curse at his inability to do anything.

"What's happening," Dillon asked. "Is Michael still swimming?"

"He's fine," Sam lied. "My lady, she saw him and she's going to get help." He glanced at Patrick, then Dillon. "Help is coming soon, I promise."

* * *

Elsa ignored the fear nagging at her insides and made the call. By the time Michael was only fifty yards or so from the shore, a Sheriff's car came roaring down the lane and a Sheriff's boat sped and bumped over the water to the island. Anxiety threatened to rip her apart. She bit her lip, wanting to scream at Michael to keep moving. He was losing the fight, his arms flailing. A small groan emitted from her lips and Elsa kicked off her shoes and ran down the bank to the dock. Her toes gripped the wood and she sprinted to the end, stretched her body over the water, and launched herself into the icy lake. For a split second before she hit the water, she remembered how chilly it could be at this time of year and part of her mind chided her for being so stupid, but she would be damned if she let Sam's friend flounder and drown so close to shore.

When her body stopped gliding, Elsa took long, quick strokes to reach Michael. He was treading water by the time she arrived, but he wouldn't be able to do it for much longer. He saw her and a flash of relief flitted over his features.

"Els-sa," he stuttered and his entire body shook.

"It's okay, Michael. I called for help and the Sheriff's people are going to the island. Let's get you out of this cold water, okay?"

"O-o-okay."

Elsa reached out to him and got a hold of his shirt. "Come on, you're almost there. Just relax and let me pull you to shore."

She wasn't sure if Michael would listen to reason, but he relaxed in her grip and let her do the work. She side stroked and Michael paddled a weak stroke with her. The icy fingers of hypothermia reached for her, pricking her skin, tempting her to let go.

"Keep coming, ma'am, you're almost here," the deputy coached her from the end of the dock.

Elsa didn't dare look to see how much distance she needed to cross yet. Instead, she concentrated on pushing harder, speeding her approach. She felt the presence of the dock pilings and reached out to touch one. Michael drifted closer to her and two pairs of hands reached and pulled him from the water. Elsa got a hand under his backside and helped push, and when he cleared the water, she moved to the side of the dock and climbed the ladder.

"Are you okay, ma'am?"

She had no idea who asked. Elsa's attention was on Michael and the rescuers carrying him to a gurney that waited on the shore. She shivered and someone threw a blanket around her, then put an arm around her shoulders and led her toward a waiting ambulance.

"Come on, we'll get you checked out," the man said.

"I'm fine. It's... it's Michael. He needs help. He swam from that island." She turned her head and stared at him. "I've never heard of anyone doing that before."

The Deputy smiled. "Neither have I, and I've been around here a long time." He eyed her and asked, "Do I know you?"

"No," Elsa answered and shook her head. "I haven't been here in years, decades maybe. Please, don't mind me, just get Michael some help."

"We're working on that. Why don't you get into my car, and I'll take you to the hospital. We'll meet Michael there. Is he your husband?"

Elsa fought a chuckle bubbling up from her throat. "He's a friend of... of my husband, who's still back on the island."

"We've got a boat going to retrieve them, so don't worry. You'll all be together again in no time." The Deputy held open the door and Elsa sat in the back seat.

He closed it on her and got into the driver's seat, and before she knew what was happening, the car passed through the wooded lane and sped along the county road to the town of Eagle River. They had a small hospital, nothing like Miami's facilities, but it would do. Elsa remained silent, wondering if she made a miscalculation by using Michael's name. She recalled that he had an alias with the same first name, but she had no idea if he was using it. A small smile came to Elsa's lips. She knew that if they were using false identities, Elsa would be Mrs. Chuck Finley. She wasn't particularly fond of the name, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Her mind worked to come up with a new first name that wouldn't sound too terrible with Finley.

"I never did catch your name, ma'am." The Deputy glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

She met his eyes and replied, "El...Elaine Finley. My husband's name is Charles, but he goes by Chuck, normally."

The Deputy nodded. "Deputy Kirsch, ma'am. Are you a Flatlander?"

"Huh?" She suddenly remembered the nickname people in Wisconsin used, in a most unfavorable tone, for Illinois residents. "Oh, no. No, we're from Georgia." Elsa patted herself on the back for being so quick witted and remembering that the plates on the car that brought them there were from the Peach State.

"Hm, you don't have an accent." He shook away the thought and said, "We're here. I know you were just in the water, but we'll have somebody check you over anyway. Nobody goes swimming in that lake this time of year unless they have to."

Elsa laughed. She was starting to feel warm again. "I know what you mean."

Not long after Elsa arrived and was checked out, she waited in a small area populated by empty chairs and a flat screen television in the corner. Sam walked in with a young man she didn't know, and another gurney flew through the doors to the emergency room with them following. She stood, hoping to get Sam's attention, but he was ushered inside without seeing her. Elsa sat, the picture of Sam's face etched into her mind. He looked so intense, he probably didn't notice that he had some scrapes and damage to his arms and face. No doubt he would see a doctor about that and be out soon.

Until then, Elsa sat on the vinyl chair and her clothes air dried. Deputy Kirsch asked her some questions, but she didn't know the answers. In a way, she was thankful because until she and Sam could communicate, she didn't know what the story was with aliases and fake backgrounds. She was out of the loop, and she didn't like it.

The sun was going down and it blasted her in the eyes, so Elsa moved to another seat closer to the emergency room doors. She was settling in when the doors opened and Sam came out with Michael. Their clothes were rumpled and dirty, burned in spots, and their hair could use a good combing, but Michael and Sam walked on their own power and seemed to be okay.

"Chuck. Thank God you're alright!" Elsa met him half way and hesitated, not sure whether it was safe to embrace him. Her eyes roved from his feet to his head, taking in the bedraggled sight of him. "What happened?"

"The boat blew up," he replied as he took her hands in his. "Mike and I were in the water when it happened. Dillon was with us. His brother Patrick was trying to start the boat when it happened." His eyes dove into hers and he gave her a reassuring smile. "We're okay. We'll tell you all about it later."

Elsa caressed the side of his face and skirted the burn on his cheek. "How'd this happen?"

"Flaming shrapnel from the blast, I guess." Sam shook his head. "I don't know. It happened so fast."

"I'm pretty sure that if the cops do an investigation, they'll find the explosion originated in the back," Michael declared as he watched Sam and Elsa with their arms wrapped around each other and lips locked in a restrained kiss. "We were at the bow, and that's probably what saved us from serious injury."

Sam tore his lips from Elsa's and said, "Mike, we just worked on that engine yesterday. I don't know how someone could have booby-trapped the boat unless they did it last night while we were asleep." He paled and lowered his voice to a whisper. "You don't think they already know our position, do you?"

Michael's head moved in a slow shake. "I have no idea. Right now, we should probably do one of two things. Either we rent a motel room to spend the night, or get a ride back to the cottage."

"Oh no, I left the cottage unlocked," Elsa said. "We better find a way back to the property. If someone hasn't figured out that we're there, and they come upon the place unsecured..."

"She's right, Mike. Let's go home."

Deputy Kirsch was only too happy to give them a ride to the cottage. Along the way he questioned Michael and Sam about what happened on the island. The deputies who had picked Sam up by boat already asked the same questions, and the answers were still the same. The Deputy pulled up to the cottage and parked, leaving the cruiser running.

"You folks going to be okay," he asked.

"We're fine. Thanks for the ride, Deputy," Michael said as Sam got out and helped Elsa emerge and stand beside him. Michael was too busy studying the cottage to offer up much more. He slammed the door and the Deputy bid them a goodnight before driving away.

The tail lights disappeared into the night before Sam spoke. "Elsa, did you leave any lights on before you went to the hospital?"

"No. I didn't." She stared at the faint glow coming from the living room.

Michael's eyes scanned the dusk shrouded yard, hands on hips, hoping to find a logical answer without risking their lives anymore that day. "There isn't another car here. Dammit, and we have no arms..."

"Sure we do," Sam interrupted, and he stepped around Elsa and Michael and moved toward the garage. "I stashed a few in the garage. I'll be right back." He soon returned with a handgun and a shotgun, and he let Michael choose which one he wanted. "They're already loaded."

"Okay, let's go. Elsa, you stay behind us and run if someone starts shooting," Michael advised. He headed for the back door and opened it without making more than a little squeak.

The two men hurried inside and flanked the kitchen door. Michael turned the knob, used the shotgun to push it open, and he and Sam burst inside just as a figure entered the kitchen.

"Michael. Well, this is a fine welcome." She gave him a disappointed look as she stood with her weight on one wedge sandal, holding up a container with a spoon sticking out of the top. "I came all this way to find you gone, and when I go to help myself to something to eat... yech. This yogurt leaves something to be desired."

Michael was so shocked to see Fiona that he dropped the shotgun on the floor, its clattering on the linoleum the only sound in the room.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

One moment Michael's jaw dropped at the sight of Fiona standing in the kitchen. In the next, he slipped around the table that blocked his way and threw his arms around her, holding her to his chest with enough force to push the breath out of her. The yogurt cup slid out of Fiona's grip and landed on the floor, spraying blueberry goo on their legs and the cabinets. Neither one cared. Eager lips latched onto eager lips. Michael's hands couldn't stop moving over Fiona's back and shoulders, and the longing that had been denied brought up a soft whimper from his throat. He pulled back, not sure if he'd done that, but it didn't matter when he saw the hungry look in Fiona's eyes, and he was certain it had nothing to do with an appetite for yogurt.

"Michael, what happened to you," she asked, her voice low and husky as she caressed his face that bore burn marks.

"We can talk about that later, Fi. Right now... I just want to be with you." He blinked, afraid he would lose control of his emotions, recalling a time when he thought he'd almost lost Fiona in a firebombing. From the expression on her face, she was experiencing the same anxiety now.

"Hey, Elsa and I are going out for some ice cream, and maybe we'll go look for bears at the dump," Sam said as he grabbed Elsa's hand and pulled her toward the back door.

"See you guys later." Elsa added with a wink, "Be kind to him, Fiona. He's had a rough day."

The screen door slammed and Sam's voice faded as he and Elsa moved away from the cottage. He said something that made her laugh. Two car doors slammed and the car started, and the last thing Michael and Fiona heard was gravel spitting as Sam gave the vehicle some gas and drove off the property.

Fiona stared at Michael. "Bears? At the dump?" She let out a disgusted sound. "Where on earth did Sam bring you? It sounds positively primitive." She glanced at the kitchen. Despite the age of the appliances, which reminded her of Michael's loft, the wood slat paneling on the walls gave the place a warm, homey feel.

"It's alright. Maybe it's not exciting, but it's relatively peaceful. If you don't count the boat blowing up."

"What? This is getting more bizarre by the minute."

"It's not important right now." Michael nuzzled her ear.

"I've been worried sick about you, ever since Sam called your mom, and she called me all frantic." Her eyes softened with unshed tears as she looked into his weepy eyes. "You can apologize later. Right now, as you said, I want to be with you too. It seems like forever since you held me." She burrowed deeper into him. "Kissed me." She assaulted his lips with hers until he almost couldn't breathe. Her own breath puffed warmth against his cheek. "Where's your room?"

Michael smiled and steered her to the door. "I'll be right there." His kiss sent electricity shooting through both of them, and he broke away long enough to close and lock the door before taking her hand, leading her into his room, and closing it behind him.

* * *

Sam and Elsa rode into town and stopped at a frozen custard stand for cones. It was a warm summer evening and a lot of other people seemed to have the same idea. The parking lot surrounding the tiny shack was full of cars lit by pink and cyan neon lights and splashes of white from the parking lot lamps. Sam and Elsa watched the other customers sitting at picnic tables in the grass away from the glaring lights, while others sat on car hoods or stood and socialized.

"This is great," Elsa said and licked a drop of melted custard before it ran down her hand. "I always thought it would be cool to find a place like this and just hang out."

"When I was in high school my friends and I spent way too much time at an ice cream stand like this, sitting on our cars, whistling at the girls and making comments." He laughed.

"Oh, you were one of those boys," she intoned.

"Guilty. Oh, you're dripping again. You have to eat it faster, Sweetheart. This isn't frozen yogurt, you know?" He shifted on the hood and got closer. "If you'd like I can..."

"Sam!" Her rebuke was followed by a short, light laugh. She dabbed at the sweetness running down her hand with a paper napkin. "There are people around. The last thing we need is for you to be making a spectacle."

He sighed, slipped his free arm around her, and said, "Guess we'll have to make that drive out to the dump for real, huh."

Elsa laughed and pushed at his chest, her hand stopping over his heart. The warmth radiating off him sent hers beating double time and she sighed. "We should really go back. I don't feel right about leaving Michael and Fiona alone for too long."

"They're adults, they can handle themselves, Baby." He nipped her ear.

She pulled away from him. "No, I'm worried about who caused that explosion. What if they're still around? You could have been killed today and you weren't, so who knows what they might try next."

"We don't even know if that's what happened. It could have been just a simple mechanical failure, a leak or something." Sighing, Sam pulled away. "If someone is after us yet, Mike is the last person you need to worry about, especially when Fi's around. Those two are quite the pair." He smirked. "Like us, only they're more dangerous."

"Give me a chance, and I might be dangerous too," Elsa replied in a whisper against his ear. He licked his cone and a remnant of frozen custard clung to his bottom lip, and Elsa's tongue slipped across her bottom lip as she displayed her desire to take care of that for him.

He read her mind and dipped his head and touched his lips to hers. It was a simple, chaste kiss, but it left them both yearning for more. Without a word Sam took what was left of his and Elsa's cones and tossed them into a nearby barrel with a crown of bees hovering, waiting in anticipation for such a treasure. Sam was oblivious as he only had eyes for Elsa, and he returned to the car, took her hand, and led her to the passenger side. After she was inside he got into the driver's seat and started the car.

"Where to," he asked.

"Let's go back to the cottage. I have an idea."

Sam raised an eyebrow, but he started the car and drove them to what had become their home base. They discovered all the lights were turned off and Sam was reluctant to go inside, because they hadn't been gone that long and he wanted Mike and Fi to have some essential alone time. Elsa grabbed his hand and trotted toward the lake with him in tow. She stopped at the end of the pier and sat, and she patted the deck beside her. Not sure what she had in mind, he followed her cue, removing his shoes and dipping his toes into the cool water. He looked around at the lake that sparkled in the moonlight. The balmy air was still and except for some frogs, the whisper of their breaths and the raking of the water with their feet, no other sounds invaded the scene.

"Isn't it beautiful," Elsa spoke in a soft tone and leaned her head against his shoulder as he put his arm around her.

"Yeah. You always look great, but this moonlight does something to you." He kissed her and she melted into him.

"I was talking about the moonlight, Sammy." She punctuated her words with a light laugh and took possession of his lips.

Sometimes her kisses made Sam feel dizzy. Or maybe it was a combination of her love and the events of the day that caused him to teeter on the edge of the dock. He compensated with a start and leaned away from the water. Then Elsa chuckled, and he knew he was in trouble. Gripping Sam's collar, she used her weight to tip their bodies into the lake, and two splashes disturbed the quiet night along with Elsa's shriek.

"This is cold," she exclaimed as she treaded water.

"Hey, it was your bright idea, not mine," Sam responded.

Her whole body shivered and she closed the distance between them. "I th-thought this would be fun-n."

"We better get out before I have to rush you to the hospital." He back stroked and she followed him around the dock until their feet touched the bottom. "Come on, let's go inside."

Her eyes were full of mischief and her mouth set in a sly smile. "I have a surprise for you. Come with me."

Elsa climbed the ladder, slipped into her shoes, and he had just enough time to put on his before she grabbed his hand and led him around the house. Tucked away on the north side was a fenced in area that Sam noticed when they first arrived. He wondered what was behind it, but he hadn't had the chance to look until now. She opened the gate and flipped up the cover on a hot tub that was big enough for two, more if you were really friendly.

"When did you get this set up," Sam asked.

She lit a couple of citron candles to lend some romantic glow and try to keep the flying bugs away. "While you guys were off getting into trouble today, I cleaned out the tub, filled it, and had it heating up all day. We don't have to…."

"No, it's perfect." Sam closed the gate and his fingers moved to the buttons on his shirt. "This'll be a lot nicer than the lake, that's for sure. You should have brought me here first."

"You can't see the moon from here, silly." She reached for the fastenings on her clothes, stripping down before him in a slow, sensual fashion.

By the time they got into the hot tub, neither one was cold anymore.

* * *

Everyone slept in the next morning. Michael woke before Fiona and enjoyed the scent of her and the softness of her skin as she pressed into his side. It had been a hard night apologizing for the past, but the making up had been so good. Having Fi beside him was like heaven, and if he closed his eyes he might think he was back at the loft. That is, if it wasn't for that bird. Twit. Twit. Twit.

"Mmm, Michael, what is that?" Fiona mumbled against his chest.

"It's a really annoying bird, Fi. A bird whose days are numbered if he keeps it up."

Fiona raised her head and pulled a few stray hairs away from her face to show him a sunny smile. "I think it's kind of cute." She turned away and slipped out of bed, and she pulled up the shade inch by inch until she could see the bird on the evergreen branch.

"He is a wee little one." Her smile turned into a grin. "Ah hah, there's a nest farther up in the tree. You'll be hard pressed to get rid of him." Turning to Michael with a serious expression, she said, "You wouldn't want to kick a poor little birdie family out of their home, would you? How heartless. Think of how it felt to be…."

"Fi, relax. I have no intention of kicking anybody out of their house." He swung his legs off the bed and from his perspective he could see the nest. "I don't hear any little chirpers."

"They probably haven't hatched yet." Fiona dropped the shade with care and turned to her suitcase that she left on the floor. After picking up a few clothes, she wrapped herself in a robe and retreated to the bathroom. Michael took his turn after her.

The four were assembled in the kitchen talking and having breakfast when they heard tires crunching gravel. Michael and Sam glanced at each other and pulled their weapons. Fiona had hers at the ready, but she stayed at the table with Elsa while the men went to the back door to see who was paying them a call. An unmarked police car pulled in next to the getaway car, blocking it from an easy escape. Until someone pulled credentials, Michael and Sam could have been looking at CIA, FBI, or just some local cops. They hid their guns on the chance that the two men in jeans and casual shirts were locals.

"Good morning, Mr. McBride, Mr. Finley. I'm Detective Weimann and this is my partner Detective Gartner. We'd like to ask you a few questions about yesterday's incident." Weimann showed them his badge, and Gartner wore his on his belt, easy for them to see. "Mind if we come in?"

"We've got some fresh coffee going if you want it," Sam answered and opened the door to let them inside. "Not sure what we can tell you that we didn't already give you yesterday."

"Well, we thought maybe you might have recalled something overnight," Weimann said as he entered the kitchen. His eyes fell on Elsa and Fiona and he smiled. "Ladies."

"Yes, sometimes people remember details that they didn't think about during the crisis, you know?" Gartner was much younger than his partner, and he eyed the women with a shy grin.

"Nope, sorry, I don't remember anything. Has anyone checked out the boat yet," Michael asked.

Weimann replied, "What's left has been sent to the crime lab in Madison. The guy who came to look at it on scene said he didn't think it was a bomb, but he would have to do some chemical analysis on it to be sure."

"You know, Mike, we were at the island for awhile and Patrick didn't purge the engine hold before he started it up," Sam said.

"You're sure of that, Mr. Finley?" Weimann looked at him with intensity in his eyes.

Sam pulled a couple of mugs from the cupboard and poured coffee for the detectives as he spoke. "Positive." He let out a breath. "The fumes probably ignited. It was probably just a dumb accident because Patrick didn't know... by the way, how is he doing?"

Gartner took his and sipped it before answering. "He's in ICU, but they think he's gonna make it. He's a tough kid."

"How is Dillon," Michael asked. He felt more than a twinge of guilt for being so wrapped up in Fiona's arrival that he hadn't thought of the two brothers last night. They should check on them.

"Dillon was lucky, like you guys. He's barely got a scratch on him, but he's worried about his brother, naturally." Weimann dropped a spoonful of sugar into his cup. "He's parked at Patrick's bedside right now."

"We'll make a trip into town to see them today," Sam said.

"Good idea, Chuck," Michael responded, keeping up the illusion.

The detectives tried to wring out any details that the two men may have left out of their statement, but they came up empty. Weimann had a feeling that these guys and their women were hiding something, but he had no evidence. After finishing his coffee and his notebook was as empty as the cup, he and Gartner left the cottage. He didn't speak until his partner had the car running and heading down the lane toward the road.

Weimann asked, "Is it just me, or did those guys strike you as... well, not really odd, but like there was something going on and they didn't want us to know?"

Gartner popped a stick of gum into his mouth, chewed a bit, and answered. "It was like they were on their guard. They didn't believe we were cops or something."

"I want to go back to the station and do a little digging on Mr. McBride and Mr. Finley. Find out if either one owns the place, and if not, whether they're staying there legally." Weimann tapped his pen on his notebook as he thought, and then he began to scribble down all his questions. "I want to review that report to see if the deputies collected their driver's license numbers. Then I can see what's in the system on them."

"Sounds like you're going to be busy. Want me to do anything?"

"Find out who owns that property. I'll look at our friends."

"Alright." Gartner bounced in his seat. "It's about time we got some excitement around here."

* * *

The detectives were gone and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Fiona and Elsa cleared the table and washed dishes, and Michael and Sam sat across from each other, hands curled around their cups, contemplating. Thoughts and fears swirled in their heads, conjuring up questions of what the detectives knew. Michael opened his mouth as if he was ready to speak, but Sam beat him to it.

"They're fishing, Mike. They don't have anything to go on so they're trying to find a shred of something to work with."

"You don't think they're part of the team looking for you. I mean, us." Elsa blinked as she looked at Sam and her eyes slid to Michael.

"No, Elsa, they're just a couple of guys doing their jobs," Michael assured her. "This is probably the biggest case of their careers and they don't have much right now. They want enough to tie it up neatly, but the reality is it's too soon for the lab to come back with anything. So they'll be watching and getting whatever they can until they find answers."

"In the meantime we have to worry about being pinpointed by your CIA buddies," Fiona remarked with a tweak of annoyance in her voice.

"Speaking of which…." Sam asked, "Fi, how'd you figure out where we were?"

"I made good time getting up here and I went into Eagle River to do a little recon to locate the Emerald Isles where we were supposed to meet." She smiled and said, "Then I had an idea. I realized I needed a good manicure, and I found a nice little salon in the middle of downtown."

"Heidi's Salon," Elsa asked.

"That's the place." Fiona's smile widened. "Heidi knows a lot about this area, and she was only too happy to spill it as she gave me this fabulous new French manicure." Fiona held up her hands and showed off her nails. "She mentioned that some of the cottages on the lake were empty a lot, that they weren't rented out, and she gave me the addresses of a few. I told her I was thinking of buying on the lake and might make an offer to the owners."

"So you checked every one," Elsa said. "But how did you know this was where we were staying?"

"I peeked into the windows. The closet in the front bedroom room was open and I saw some shirts in it that looked like something Sam would wear." She shrugged. "I was taking a guess, really. Then I found that the back door was unlocked, so I came in, looked around, and knew I was in the right place." She gave Michael and Sam a look. "You two really need to work on hiding your identities better and keeping the doors locked. Really." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and rejoined Elsa at the sink.

"Normally we would, but we had a bit of an emergency," Michael replied.

"So the boat really blew up," Fiona questioned. "I wish I'd been around. I could have taken a look at it, maybe found a signature or something."

"Trust us, Fi, there wasn't much left of the thing by the time the fire burned out," Michael said. "I don't think they'll have enough to figure out much of anything, to tell you the truth."

"If they picked up some of the debris that was thrown clear of the inferno, maybe they'll find a clue," Sam suggested. "We could go check if anything was left behind, but, well, we don't have a boat anymore."

"As much as I'd like to get to the bottom of it, I think we need to stay out of it, Sam." Michael set his cup down and wore a serious expression. "We need to keep a low profile, and getting involved isn't going to help."

They all agreed, albeit with some reluctance, that it was best to leave the investigation to the local professionals. In the meantime the four would go into town to visit the McCready boys and see how they were doing before spending the day trying to relax. On the way out, Sam checked the door twice to be sure it was locked, and Michael secured the garage. He drove the car into Eagle River, keeping an eye on their surroundings the entire way. Side roads and driveways were suspect, and his eyes flitted toward them as he drove past.

Sam also kept an eye out for a tail. After the short interview with the detectives, he didn't think they were smart enough, but if Weimann and Gartner were working with the CIA in a clandestine manner, it was very possible that someone could be watching them. And here he'd been hoping that he and his friends could just fade into the remote property and not be bothered. He knew it was unrealistic, but that didn't stop him from thinking that maybe it could happen.

They made it into Eagle River and stopped at the hospital without any indication that someone was onto them, and after a quick trip to the store to pick up a few more groceries, they returned to the cottage without incident. Still, Michael and Sam were on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was only a matter of time.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Two days passed and still Michael couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen. Fiona tried her best to help him relax. He spent so much time in the hot tub with her massaging his tense shoulders that he thought he would be permanently wrinkled. Sam wasn't any better, although he always made putting up a good front look so easy. Michael stepped onto the porch, skirted around the hummingbird feeder that seemed to attract more bees than birds, and crossed the grassy yard to the beach. He was like a kid on summer vacation about ready to announce his boredom and that there was nothing to do.

The air was filled with the scent of fresh cut grass and a slight fishy odor that strengthened as he approached the strip of sand. He stopped near the women where they lay on deck chairs and sunned themselves, talking about woman things. Coconut oil formed a thick but invisible olfactory aura around them, and the two glistened with it. Fiona and Elsa shaded their eyes and looked up at him when he blocked the sun.

"Where's Sam," he asked.

"He's in the garage working on the mower," Elsa replied. "At least, that's what I'm guessing." She looked up at Michael with a carefree grin. "It died on him and he was muttering a few curses before he pushed it to the garage."

"Hmm. I guess I'll go see if there's anything I can do to help."

Over the past couple of days, when he wasn't boiling away in the hot tub he tried reading to get his mind off things. Maybe if the book had been formatted like a dossier, he would have had better luck. So far this retirement thing wasn't working out too well for him, because he couldn't focus on doing something just for the pure enjoyment of it. He hoped that helping Sam and having something to do with his hands would get him over his restlessness.

He found his friend in the garage as Elsa said, inspecting a spark plug and muttering under his breath. "Everything okay, Sam?"

"No. This mower is… well, it's a piece of crap, that's what it is." He threw the plug down and dug into a bin full of parts. "I think Elsa's husband had problems with it before. Look at all this stuff in here. It's like there's another mower in here, if we just put it together."

Michael glanced over Sam's shoulder and smirked. "But nothing that'll fix it?"

"Nope. I'm thinking that it just needs a new plug or a wire to connect the plug." He let out a sound of frustration. "Now I know why there's a push mower here." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the contraption hanging on two nails on the wall. "Are you up for a little exercise?"

"Well, it's not like there's a lot of grass to cut," Michael declared.

"Great, thanks for volunteering, Mikey!" Sam grinned. "I'm ready to give up on this mower until we go into town and I can pick up some parts. Right now, I need a beer and a little R&R time on the beach."

Sam was almost out of the garage when Michael asked, "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Sam's eyes fell on the push mower. "That? You just get it down on the ground and push it."

"No, that's not what I meant." Michael shook his head, and when he looked at Sam, the ex-spy wore a little boy lost expression. "I mean, how do you turn off the job?"

A smile crossed Sam's face. "Everybody does it differently, Mike, and some of us are more adept at it than others." He shrugged. "Me, I seem to have the ability to forget about it, like you turn off a light." He winked and added, "A beer or two doesn't hurt, either."

"I wish I had that ability," Michael said in a soft voice that Sam almost couldn't hear.

"For you, it'll take practice. Don't force it. And maybe it would help if you got into a mindset that we're here for an undetermined amount of time that'll most likely be long term. It might help you relax and go with the flow."

"Thanks." The smile Michael gave him was one of gratitude. His friend had given him something to think about and hope for, although being out of the spy loop for an indefinite time was such an unfathomable concept to him. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Glad I could help. While you're mowing you can ponder it." Sam cracked a smile and left the garage.

A soft laugh escaped Michael. Sam not only conned him into cutting the grass, he made it sound like he was doing Michael a favor by thrusting the chore on him. "Better get to it," he mumbled and reached for the machine and pulled it down from its crude hanger. "Get it over with."

The old fashioned mower worked better than Michael would have expected once he gave it a little oil to loosen up the gears. The blades made a whirring sound as he rolled it across the lawn, the twirling metal cutting the grass and sending the emerald green blades flying up and over the mower to land on the lawn again, divorced from the shoots and dying in the hot sun. He swiped at the perspiration running down his temples and forehead, preventing it from stinging his eyes. Now this was something he understood, hard work.

Cutting grass brought back memories of home, and he thought about his mother Madeline and wondered. Was she safe? Were the CIA agents watching her like a hawk? Did they pull a Riley and tap her phone lines hoping that he would be stupid and call her? There were other ways to contact his mother, but he was hesitant to use them. In the past he was gone for years without contact, and until he'd been burned, he had no idea how much he hurt her with his lack of communication. Michael tried to reason that it was for her own good but he knew better now, and he vowed that he would never do that to her again.

Maybe in a few days, or a week, when he felt more certain that the threat was fading, then he would contact Barry. His old money laundering friend could be counted upon to show up at Maddie's for an impromptu product party and deliver a message from Michael.

As he emerged from the garage after putting away the push mower, the detectives' sedan pulled into the dirt yard between the garage and the cottage. Weimann and Gartner got out and approached him, and Michael tried to read their expressions, but they kept them neutral. The sunglasses didn't help.

He tried on a friendly, innocent smile. "Detectives. This is a surprise."

"Mr. McBride. How are you," Weimann asked, his hands clasping his belt buckle and keeping his stance casual.

"Fine. We're all fine, but I doubt that's why you're here." Michael mirrored the detective's pose, but his arms were crossed over his chest. "Have you had a breakthrough in the case?"

"I suppose you could call it that, but it's not very dramatic," Weimann replied. "The lab determined that the explosion wasn't caused by a bomb. Most likely it's like Mr. Finley said, gas fumes combusting. They're testing for that, and so far, that's the conclusion."

"It makes sense. I mean, why would anyone want to plant a bomb on our boat?" Michael smiled. "It's not like we're anybody special."

"Really." Weimann said and he glanced at his partner.

Gartner pulled something from his back pocket and unfolded it before he held it up for Michael to see. It was a photo of Michael below the CIA logo with a memo underneath his likeness. Gartner said, "It looks like you're a wanted man, Michael… Westen. Care to explain this?"

"What does it say?" Michael squinted at it. "Can't see a thing without my glasses."

Gartner glanced at his partner, his eyes questioning. He jiggled the paper in his hand and replied, "It says that you're a fugitive and an enemy of the state. The CIA wants you, Westen. It's a little sketchy on why, other than that enemy of the state part."

At that moment Sam came around the cottage and spotted the detectives with Michael. "Hey, Detectives. Any news on what happened to the boat?" He approached and noted the younger man fidgeting with a piece of folded paper in his hand, and he got a glimpse of Michael's picture on it. Detective Weimann appeared to be perturbed about something, and Michael was wary behind a mask of confidence.

"We're taking your friend in, Mr. Finley, if that's your real name," Weimann said.

"Huh? What's going on?" Sam played shock and surprise to the hilt.

Gartner shook out the paper and held it up for Sam to read. "This guy isn't who he says he is, and this paper says he's dangerous and should be apprehended on sight. So we're taking him to the station."

"Mike, what's this about? This guy kind of looks like you, but come on, fellas, it's a case of mistaken identity. Really!" Sam was so good he almost convinced Michael that he was being genuine.

"We'll get some prints and run them, and if Mr. Westen still hasn't given us the truth, we'll find out for ourselves," Weimann said, addressing Sam with a cold look in his eyes. "I don't know what you're pulling here, mister, but just because we work in a small department, that doesn't mean we're stupid."

"I didn't say you were," Sam declared with a nod of respect to their intelligence. "I just think you're making a big mistake."

Michael had to hand it to Sam. He was doing everything he could to avoid his friend being hauled into the station, because he was well aware that fingerprints would flush him out, and then Michael's life would be over.

"If we're wrong, we'll apologize," Gartner said. "Please, Mr. Westen, come with us."

In the past if Michael found himself in a situation where he'd been uncovered, he usually used a surprise martial arts move to incapacitate the enemy and flee. In this case he had no good exit strategy other than the truth, most of which was classified and not for the detectives' ears.

"Can you guys give us a few," Sam asked.

The detectives looked at each other, then Weimann nodded. "We'll give you a minute. No more stalling after that."

"Thanks." Sam grasped Michael's elbow and pulled him out of earshot of the detectives. "Mike, we can't let them take you away. The Agency will jump on this place so fast…."

"I know, Sam." Michael exhaled as he studied the detectives. "This'll sound crazy, but maybe we should tell them the truth."

Sam scoffed. "You got anything to back up what you're gonna tell them? If not, that's a crappy plan."

"Well, if you've got something better, I'm all ears." Michael's eyes challenged Sam to come up with an alternative. "If we're honest and upfront with them, and they go back to the station and check things out, they'll find out that we're not lying."

"Unless the Agency has engineered things to make you look like the bad guy these cops think you are. Then there's no way out of this." He cleared a hitch from his voice. "Mikey, I'm afraid you've used up the last of your nine lives."

"So you're giving up on me," Michael stated with hurt in his voice. "Of all the people in my life, other than my Mom, I thought you'd support me no matter what."

"I do. I just don't think this is going to work." He sighed, the feeling of a weight on his shoulders. "But if this is what you want to do, I'll be there. I'll go down with you if that's what it takes to set you free from the CIA."

Sam's words cut through his soul like a razor sharp blade. He'd never heard anyone declare such loyalty before, not even Sam himself. "You realize what you're setting yourself up for. What about Elsa…."

"Don't remind me, Mikey. I've already committed."

Michael saw the pain in his friend's eyes. It hurt him to see how much Sam was sacrificing, and he supposed that he could never repay him except by following through and coming out of this crisis alive and free. He nodded and said, "Okay, let's do it."

"I'll let you do the talking and I've got your back." Sam gave him a reassuring smile before stepping away and approaching the detectives. "Guys, we're ready for a little sit down. Come on inside. It's kinda hot out here." He smirked. "I'd offer you a beer, but, well, you're on duty."

"Thanks just the same." Sam and Michael noted that Detective Weimann's sense of wariness was up, but he followed them to the house with Gartner beside him.

No one spoke as the four entered the kitchen and took seats at the table. Michael and Sam sat one side and the detectives occupied the other. The friends folded their hands on the surface, a move the detectives mirrored.

"Well?" Weimann asked.

"Sam," Michael said and inclined his head toward the refrigerator. "Maybe we should get our guests something to drink before we start?"

"Sure."

The sound of twittering birds and the hiss of the leaves moving in the warm breeze filtered through the open windows as the men sat waiting. Sam set down four glasses and pitchers of water and iced tea in the center of the table.

"Anybody want ice?"

Heads bobbed, and Sam set out a bowl with cubes in it.

Sam sat in his chair, grabbed a glass, ice, and tea, and said, "Alright, let's get this over with. Mike?"

"I'll start by being up front with you. I am the guy on that poster. My name is Michael Westen. I used to be a spy…."

Michael spent over an hour telling the detectives his story, how he was burned, how he searched for the person who burned him and how he became tangled in the web that had become his life ever since, leaving out the classified parts. Sam backed up his story, talking about how he banded with Michael and Fiona. They kept Jesse out of it, thinking it was bad enough that the two of them had their heads in the vise. Toward the end of Michael's testimony, Fiona and Elsa came inside chattering and laughing about something. When they entered the kitchen, they stopped in their tracks and stared at the men staring at them.

Gartner found his voice first. "Mr. Westen, would you swear on everything you told us?"

"I would." He answered with confidence, resting in his chair in a stance of assurance.

"And so would I," Sam volunteered with more passion, leaning forward in his seat.

"Well, that was a lot to chew on," Detective Weimann said.

"Michael, what's going on," Fiona asked as her eyes darted from the detectives to Michael and Sam.

"We'd like to ask you some questions, Ms. Glenanne, and you as well Ms. Darabant," Weimann said as he met the women's gazes. "If you don't mind clearing out of here for a bit, Mr. Westen, Mr. Axe. We'll skip the trip to the station this way."

Michael and Sam glanced at each other. Neither of them had expected this, and they took it as a good sign. Michael scraped his chair on the linoleum floor and stood. "Take all the time you need. Sam and I will be out on the porch." Michael slipped past Fiona and Elsa, and he ignored the look of betrayal on Fiona's face. She didn't understand what he'd done. She thought he was giving them all up, when in fact it appeared by the detectives' body language that he was building an alliance. He whispered, "Fi, Elsa, just be honest." Then he left the room.

If the ladies followed his direction, Michael knew the detectives would follow up on everything with an open mind. The only factor he couldn't count on and he had no control over was what information they might glean from the CIA. The Agency could tell Weimann and Gartner a pack of lies disguised as the truth and tear down the foundation he and Sam built. He tried not to think about that, because the ramifications were too horrible to consider.

* * *

The screen squeaked and Fiona and Elsa stepped outside onto the porch. Two pairs of eyes looked up at them and neither one spoke. Fiona's complexion looked a bit pale despite the time in the sun, and she grasped the porch rail. They'd been alone with the detectives for almost an hour.

"So, Fi, how'd it go," Michael asked as he stood and put an arm around her waist.

Before she could answer, Detective Gartner stood inside the doorway with a grim set to his features. "We're all done, folks." Gartner declared. "Mr. Westen, you're free to stay here for the time being, but I'd advise you not to go anywhere outside the area. The second you bolt, we'll have the state police looking for you. Understood?"

Michael nodded. "Understood."

"Good." Gartner smiled. "Thanks for the refreshments. My partner and I need to get back to the station and do some checking on you. Enjoy the rest of your day."

"Let me escort you out," Elsa said, a slight vibration in her voice. She threw open the screen and hurried through it, leading him out the back door with Detective Weimann. A few moments later the detectives' car started up and pulled away. Elsa returned still shaken and uncomfortable from the interrogation.

"I don't know how you all deal with that. Those guys were as bad as the CIA hounding me when you went on the run."

"It's a hazard of our lives," Fiona informed her, and she turned to Michael. "It wasn't bad, really. Reliving the past couple of years, several years... it was just a little difficult to have to go through that nightmare again."

Michael took her into his arms and held her against his body. "It's okay, Fi. It's over."

"If I lose you again..." She couldn't finish the thought.

"You're not." He framed her face with his hands and forced her to look into his eyes while hers spilled tears. "I swear, no matter what happens, you will not lose me. I'm yours, Fi. You're mine. Nothing can change that."

"I don't think I could bear occasional visits where I can't even touch you. We did enough of that when I was in prison."

He nodded and gave her a sad smile. "I promise, if I have to meet Raines face to face myself, I will. And I'll convince him that letting me walk around the planet is not going to jeopardize the Agency one bit."

Sam and Elsa stood on the opposite end of the short porch, his arms wrapped around her. "That's suicide, Mike. If you're gonna do that, brother, please give us enough warning. We need to prepare for something like that."

"I'm working on a plan, Sam." He smiled. "We might just need to get our hands on a boat to make it work."

"Well, now that your kind of outted, I think we can manage to go buy a new one if Elsa's okay with it," Sam said. He squeezed her and asked, "Well? What do you think?"

"I'll be happy to do what I can for the cause," Elsa answered. She looked up at Michael and said, "Those detectives were trying really hard to find something to corroborate what the Agency must have told them." She swallowed, and a small triumphant smile crossed her face. "You should have seen their expressions. It was like we were chipping away at whatever biases they had against you. But Michael, I don't think that's enough."

"I know. After they report back to the Agency, it'll probably get worse." Michael scowled and stared off into the distance at the lake.

"So if you've got a plan, care to fill us in," Sam asked.

"Let's talk about it over dinner," Michael said. "I'm hungry."

Elsa and Fiona gazed at him as if he was crazy. The last thing on their minds was food. Sam grinned and said, "Elsa's had some chicken defrosting in the fridge. I'll grab the barbecue sauce and fire up the grill."

After Sam disappeared inside, Michael told Elsa and Fiona. "Don't worry. If Gartner and Weimann aren't satisfied with what they find, I have a Plan B. It's just going to take a few things to make it work." He fixed his eyes on Fiona and smiled. "Fi, you know me. I always have a plan."

"It doesn't always unfold the way you like, but yes, you do have a way with tactics." She agreed, then added, "I just hope that this time it will come off perfectly, because your life is on the line."

"When is it not?" He knew it sounded a bit cocky, but he wanted to try some of that Sam Axe devil-may-care attitude that seemed to work so well for his friend. Fiona wasn't buying it. Maybe he would have to come up with a Plan C just to ease her mind completely.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"Central Intelligence Agency, how may I direct your call," the operator intoned in a harried voice.

"Director Raines, please. This is Michael Westen."

The name didn't ring any bells with her as she continued to speak in a monotone. "One moment, please."

He heard a click and upbeat classical music took the place of the operator's voice, a stark contrast to the peacefulness around him. Michael leaned back in the Adirondack chair on the beach, watched the sun hanging above the trees on the north side of the lake, and wondered if the Agency was using the time he waited to trace his call and find his location. That's what he would do. A swishing behind him caught his attention and he turned to see Fiona walking across the lawn with a cup of coffee and a tall ice water for herself.

"Do they have you waiting," she asked and shook her head when Michael nodded. "If you have to wait more than thirty seconds…."

Michael held up his hand as he heard someone pick up. "Director Raines office."

"This is Michael Westen, I need to speak with Raines."

She let out a little gasp over the line, and with a higher tone indicating her surprise at hearing his name she said, "Mr. Westen! Mr. Raines asked me to put you right through if you called, but… but he's in a meeting right now. A very important meeting."

"Is it about me, because if it is, just go ahead and put me through. I love conference calls." He grinned.

"Uh, please hold a moment." The music changed to a fast tempo jazz. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait very long. "I'm putting you through, Sir."

"Is this really you, Westen?"

Michael set his phone on the chair arm and hit the button for speaker phone. "Director Raines, hi. Yes, it's me, Michael Westen. How ya doing? I hope you're well. How are the wife and kids?"

"Westen, you know I'm busy. I don't have time for this," Raines grumbled in return.

"Time for what? For chasing me around trying to kill me?"

"West… Michael," Raines sighed out his name in frustration. "You really should fly up to DC, and we can talk."

"No, I think you should come here to my neutral location. I'm sure your people have already figured out where I am."

Raines hesitated. Michael knew the game and it was futile to try to trick him. His handlers had taught him well, and he learned a lot on the job over the years. Too much for his own good, Raines thought. "That's not a bad idea. I'll see you tomorrow morning at ten, at your location."

"Great. Come casual, we'll have a few beers, hang out..."

"This is strictly business, Michael. Ten tomorrow, and no tricks."

The phone went dead, and Michael smiled. "Well, I think that went pretty well, considering. What do you think, Fi?"

"I think I'll be glad when tomorrow is over," she replied and sipped on her water.

The sound of gravel and a motor got their attention, and they turned their heads to see the Jeep approaching the narrow dirt lane that led to the boat ramp. Sam executed a three point turn so the back end of the new boat on the trailer faced the water. Michael jumped out of his seat and helped direct him until the bottom of the boat rested on the surface of the gentle waves.

"Just a little more, Sam," he advised, and Sam pulled in farther. "Woah, that's good!"

Elsa jumped out of the truck and turned the crank to release the craft inch by inch into the water. Fiona stood waiting to tie it to the dock and Michael stood on the shore watching, pride in his team swelling inside him. He never would have considered Sam's girlfriend to be an adequate partner in their venture. Before this, she was just a rich, spoiled woman who had Sam wrapped around her finger, and she provided a convenient way out for Michael. It was sweet that she held such loyalty to Sam. But along the way she proved that she wasn't just a source for toys and tools. He watched her interact with Sam and Fiona, working together and not trying to order people around like she did at her hotel. His opinion of her had been altered, but he had a feeling that he wasn't the only one who could come out of this transformed.

He let out a sigh and stood with hands on his hips, hoping that this plan worked. If he couldn't convince Raines that he was valuable alive and that he had no intention of turning around and biting the Agency that bit him, he feared that the results would be a massive crime scene with no one left to tell the story.

Another set of tires announced the arrival of the detectives, and for a moment Michael sensed a pit of anxiety gnawing at his stomach. When the two emerged from the vehicle he couldn't read their expressions. They looked grim, but maybe it was just the sun in their eyes.

Sam got out of the Jeep and met them first, and Michael hurried to catch the conversation. Out of the corner of his eye he noted Fiona watching with suspicion, her hand on her hip ready to pull out her weapon. He shook his head and she stood down, but she made it clear by the slight pout that she was displeased with his order. Elsa stood with the crank still in her hand, motionless, as she watched the scene unfold.

"Good morning, Westen," Detective Weimann said when he focused on Michael's approach.

"Morning, Detectives. Can we help you with anything? Or are you here to haul us all in after doing your investigating yesterday," Michael asked in a tone that broadcast his being tired of the game between himself and the authorities, whether it was the local cops or the CIA.

"No, but thanks for the offer," Weimann answered. He perched a foot on a large rock and planted his hand on his knee. Michael and Sam noted that it was the same hand he would use to shoot. The Detective at least felt that they posed no threat, which was a relief. "I'll have you know that Donny and I blew the rest of our day playing phone tag and running up against one wall after another. Those government boys are tighter than a… well, they're tight. Let just put it that way."

"I should have warned you about that," Michael said.

A long sigh escaped the Detective. "Yeah. Anyway, they may be all hush hush about the really good stuff, but I got the impression that there's this weird love-hate relationship with you. Care to tell me why?"

"They told you that," Michael asked and swallowed a lump of fear. If they were that brazen to tell a civilian...

"Not in so many words, but the people I did talk to, well, I could read between the lines." He stared at Michael. "What is it with you and these boys at the CIA?"

"In a nutshell, they think Mike's got enough knowledge that he's dangerous walking around," Sam answered. "Like if one of our enemies got hold of him and tried to torture him for information, they're afraid he'll tell it all. But I've got three reasons why that'll never happen. First, they'd have to catch him. Second, Mike is really, really good at resisting interrogation. And three, he would never betray his country. It's pretty damn insulting that they think he would. After all this time, the big guys at the CIA think that little of him..."

Michael smiled, interrupting him. "Thank you, Sam."

"Any time, Mikey. It's the truth." Sam turned back to the detectives. "So that's why were here. We were trying to lay low and hope the Agency got tired of pursuing him. And maybe they'd see that he wasn't a danger."

Weimann studied Sam, then Michael, and sighed again. "Westen, I wanna help you but other than keeping your location quiet, there isn't a whole lot I can do."

Michael responded. "Well, that's kind of a moot point now. Raines knows where I am and he's coming here tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Weimann's eyebrows rose above his sunglasses. "Do you have a plan? You're not going to let him just take you away, are you?"

Michael was shocked by the concern in the man's voice. Weimann must have learned enough about Michael to trust that he wasn't the bad guy. Then the old cynical side of him wondered if the detective had just found another way to try to get down to the next level of who Michael was. He decided to answer him, but be careful.

"I have a plan and we're setting it up right now. I was going to call to warn you that things might get ugly on the lake tomorrow morning." He paused and glanced toward the water where a few fishing boats bobbed in the water near the islands. He pointed toward them and said, "It might be a good idea to keep boaters away from them, but I don't know how you can do that."

"Thanks for the courtesy, Michael. It's okay if I call you Michael, isn't it?"

Michael smiled. This guy was good. "Sure. If I can call you..."

"Jack. My name's Jack," Detective Weimann answered with an enouraging nod. "So, what's going down? I'd rather that you guys didn't have a shooting match out there, but if that's what's going to happen, I wanna know."

"Maybe we should sit down and talk." Inside, Michael cringed at the idea of trusting these men with his plan, but when it came down to it, he didn't know how heavily armed Raines would be. He might need the detectives' assistance.

"Donny, come on." Jack Weimann spoke to his partner and turned to Michael with a grin. "Good thing we stopped by the bakery on the way and picked up some donuts. I think we're gonna need 'em."

A spark of amusement lit up Michael's eyes. "We've got coffee. Hey Sam, are you about done with the boat?"

Sam turned and noted that Elsa and Fiona had everything in hand. "Looks like the ladies have the boat secure. I'll just take the Jeep and the boat trailer up to the garage and meet you guys in the house." He met Michael's eyes, questioning if his friend was okay with his plan or if he wanted him there for backup.

Michael nodded. "Fine. We'll meet you in the kitchen."

* * *

After Jack and Donny left the cottage, Michael and Fiona went to town to shop for a few other items they needed for their plan. Fiona entered the gun shop alone and came out with enough ammunition to hold off a small team, but not so much that she drew unwanted attention. It was bad enough that the shop owner kept giving her hungry eyes. Michael busied himself at the hardware store finding other supplies, and while he was there he picked up spark plugs and a cable for the mower. He wasn't going to let Sam connive his way out of mowing the next time, if there was a next time. Hopefully before the grass grew high enough to mow again, the four of them would be back in Florida and Michael would be a free man.

What then? He hadn't given it much thought. Every time he tried, it seemed as if a big, heavy curtain closed off his mind to prevent him from considering his future. It was obvious during the idle time at the cottage that he wasn't cut out for the leisurely life. He would have to do something. Maybe start a business helping people.

That hardly seemed novel, but it would be like going back to the early days of his burning, when he worked at odd jobs taking care of peoples' problems and making money. It was good money, and it made him feel useful, and deep down he had to admit that it made him feel good. If getting off the burn list hadn't been so important to him, he might still be doing that work and not worrying about staying out of range of the government's hit squad. Getting back into it would be easy enough. Sam and Fi might even join him.

As he considered this option, it seemed as if the curtain rose and he began to see things clear as day. It could work. No, it would work. They just had to get over this hump, convince Raines that Michael Westen was better off alive and perhaps the Agency could consider him a resource in the future. Only then could Michael even hope to have the best of both worlds. He smiled wide as he daydreamed of the possibilities.

He met Fiona on the sidewalk in front of a small diner. She smiled at him and said, "Michael, it's after noon. Why don't we duck in here and get a bite to eat?"

"Sam and Elsa are back at the cottage alone, and with Raines coming..."

She grasped his upper arm at the elbow and turned him toward the diner entrance. Through her teeth she muttered, "If you know what's good for you, you'll get in there now."

Michael took a step and a reflection of a slow moving vehicle in the front window glass made him stop. If that wasn't a Fed car, he didn't know what was. A middle aged man who kind of reminded him of Agent Harris, an FBI agent who tailed him early in his burning, sat in the passenger seat as the car rolled past. His eyes scanned the people on the sidewalk, and before he could get more than a second's glance at Michael, the ex-spy put an arm around Fiona's shoulders and led her inside.

The bell on the door announced their arrival but Michael was pleased to see that very few of the customers looked up to study the newcomers. If this was where the locals hung out, encroaching on their territory could be good, or bad. Good because it might it might give them a place to blend in and decrease their chances of being found if the agents got out and went looking on foot. Bad if the agents decided to check out the places where the locals hung out, thinking that Michael would choose such a place for that reason. Until he was back at the cottage with Sam as their backup, he was at risk.

Fiona led him to a table near the back and situated herself so she could look down the short hall to the screened back door. A soft breeze entered and blew through to the front door.

"Fi, we should just go back to the cottage. If we're gone too long, Sam will worry."

The corner of Fiona's mouth turned up. "I don't think Sam and Elsa will worry about us." A smile spread across her face. "Sam asked me to get you out for awhile. He and Elsa wanted a little alone time, I think. After lunch, we can go back and take the boat out for a spin, work it through its paces, so to speak."

"According to Sam, it's a brand new boat. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to break it in before tomorrow morning. We don't need anything to mess up our plan." Michael scanned the menu for a few seconds before dropping it onto the table. "Maybe we should order and take it to go."

Michael's phone rang, and his eyebrow rose as he pulled it from his pocket. A glance at the screen told him the number was blocked. "Hello."

"Mike, it's Jack. I just had a couple of government guys come into my office asking about you. I told them I didn't know much, but I could tell they weren't convinced. They're talking to Donny right now, and he's doing a pretty good job of covering for you. But I would be careful between now and tomorrow morning if I were you. These guys gave me a bad feeling."

"Did you get their names," Michael asked.

"Even better. I saw their IDs and got their badge numbers. My assistant is running them through a computer right now. I don't know why, Mike, but my gut is telling me these guys aren't gonna show up in the system." Jack hesitated. "Either they're part of some clandestine team, or they've been sent to take you out by God only knows who."

Michael smirked. "Now you have an idea of what I deal with in my life."

Jack laughed and replied, "Glad I never got interested in working for the Feds. I'm not too keen on their retirement plan."

"If they're assigned to the Agency, they're here to monitor me," Michael assured him. "Tomorrow, when Raines thinks he'll have me where he wants me, then they'll try to kill me."

"Oh, that makes me feel better," Jack scoffed. "I think my assistant got something. I'll call you back if it's anything besides these guys are ghosts and nobody knows anything about them."

"Thanks, Jack. I really appreciate your and Donny's help with this."

"No problem, Michael. It's kind of exciting to be helping a spy, but like I said, I don't want to get any closer than this to that kind of life. Talk to you later."

"So, who was that," Fiona asked. She sipped on a soda, and another sat in front of Michael. "You were so wrapped up in your call, I went to the counter and ordered for us." She smiled. "I was able to keep a good eye on both doors there. Your friends in the car drove past again and seemed to be leaving town."

Michael frowned. "North or south?"

"South."

"Sam..."

"I already called him," Fiona said with an assuring smile and a hand on his. "He and Elsa are taking the boat out on the lake, so if anyone shows up, they'll be gone. When we get back, we need to signal him from the shore, and he'll return."

"Signal him with what?"

"I've got that covered." She patted a pocket on her purse where Michael knew she kept a mirror. "Now, that looks like our food coming, so let's think about eating. I'm starved!"

As Fiona dug into her hamburger, Michael dipped a sweet potato fry into some ketchup and let his mind flash memories of the past few years and how he and Fiona worked together. During his time slaving for the CIA, he missed it terribly. He reached across the table and brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek.

She swallowed her bite and asked, "Michael, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He smiled at her. "I'm just really glad you came back to me. I'm grateful to have you here, Fi."

"As much as I wanted to let you fend for yourself, when it came down to it, I... I loved you too much to let you do that." She gazed at her plate, feeling foolish for revealing her feelings.

Michael tilted her chin up until his eyes met hers. "I know how much you love me. I've wanted to tell you for such a long time how I feel," he said, fighting the tide of emotions that threatened to turn him into a weak mess. "I didn't, though, because I didn't know where the Agency would take me. I didn't want you to know and then hope for me to come back to you, only to have me... to have me never make it home."

"Michael, I had faith that you would come home. You'd find a way."

He nodded. "I'm sure Max thought that too. Look what happened to him. I didn't want to raise your hopes by telling you that I loved you." He stopped, swallowed some of his drink, and repeated, "I love you, Fi."

The biggest, sunniest smile he'd seen on Fiona's face in a long time blossomed and he felt his spirits soar. "I knew that. You didn't even have to say it." The smile changed in a beat to a critical tilt. "Although there were times I doubted it."

"Fi, I'm sorry. I wish you knew how much it hurt to stand in front of you and tell you that I was working for the Agency this one last time."

"I know. Behind that stoic expression I saw how much it killed you, and at the time I was so angry that you would let them do that to you. Angry at you for not telling them to stick it." She held up a hand. "No, don't say it. I know you did it to save us from jail." She lowered her hand and folded her arms together on the table as she leaned forward. Her face was only a few inches away from his when she spoke the next words in a soft tone. "No one has sacrificed so much for us before. Thank you, Michael."

Fiona's lips were warm and soft when they touched his, and he returned the kiss with the same love in which it was given. He pulled away first and leaned into his chair, studying her with a sparkle in his eyes. She hadn't seen that in a long time.

"So, what happens after the CIA gets off your back," she asked.

Michael reached for her hand and massaged the fingers as he spoke. "I want to go away for awhile, just the two of us. No Sam, or my Mom..." He grinned at her soft snicker. "How does Paris sound?"

Fiona's eyes widened and her mouth hung open long enough for her to realize how ridiculous she must have looked, and she shut it.

"I know you've always wanted to go there, so we'll do it. I've got enough frequent flier miles to get us to the moon and back, I think." He chuckled. "What do you say?"

"I love it."

"Great. But before we get thinking about the Eiffel Tower, we need to build up our plan for tomorrow." He glanced at his plate. "Let's get this to go."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

How Michael could trust Raines to keep his word and not storm the place in the middle of the night was beyond Sam's comprehension. Maybe it was the history they had that made Michael believe that he would be a man of his word. Sam didn't trust the guy as far as he could throw him. After all, he was the one who put the mark of death on Mike's head, and he was the kind who would get what he wanted at all costs. It was because of this that Sam sat at the kitchen table with a fresh cup of coffee, keeping his hands busy cleaning guns. If Raines came with a team he would be outnumbered and outgunned, but at least they wouldn't all be murdered in their sleep. He would go down fighting.

Earlier in the day, Sam and Elsa took the boat for a spin and pushed it to its limits until the local water patrol forced him to slow down or risk a fine. Then the couple checked out the islands, which is something he and Mike started to do but never finished before the boat went up in smoke. This time, he was careful and made sure the proper procedures were followed to avoid another explosion.

Only one of the islands was up to his standards for a meeting place, and it was right in line with Elsa's property. The other two were swampy and small, not a lot of good cover. The island he chose had trees that were large enough to hide behind or climb and use as a sniper's perch. In the morning, he would take a small cache of weapons out there and stash them for an emergency, but tonight he worked to make sure the guns were ready to be used. It was better than tossing and turning in bed, trying to capture the sleep that eluded him.

"Here's the last one, Sam," Elsa said as she held up a rifle by the stock, her nose wrinkled in distaste at the dirt and old cobwebs on it. "I didn't know Evan had all these rifles until I started looking around the storage in the garage. He brought business associates here now and then to hunt, but I really thought they came up for the quiet and some hot games of poker."

"You sure that wasn't your son," Sam asked and chuckled.

She just gave him a look and muttered, "Sam."

He took the gun from her and set it on the newspapers on the kitchen table. Michael and Fiona had gone to bed hours ago, so he kept his voice as soft as Elsa's. "From the looks of these things, it doesn't appear that he did much hunting. The barrels are in almost mint condition, once you get the spider webs out of them." He smiled. "Tomorrow morning I'll check them out before I stash them on the island. Nothing worse than a gun that won't fire when your ass is on the line." As he spoke, he disassembled the gun and worked on each part.

Elsa washed her hands of the grime and sat to his right. "Is there anything I can do?"

He eyed her and saw the fear and concern written in her expression. He covered her hand with his. "It's going to be okay. With any luck, nobody'll get shot, and Mike will just convince Raines that this is a mistake."

"You make it sound so easy." Her voice trembled, telegraphing just how scared she was.

"Sometimes it is, especially with Mike. He has a gift for talking people out of stuff." He gave her a lopsided smile and handed her the bolt mechanism. "Take that brush there and scrub inside, and don't be afraid to use some solvent. Can you do that?"

"If I have any questions, I'll let you know," she replied with a smirk.

Sam's smile faded and he leaned closer until his shoulder touched hers. "Baby, have I told you how grateful I am for everything you've done? Letting us use this place, and then coming along and helping every step of the way." He shook his head, in awe of everything she'd done. "None of the other women I've known would have stuck their necks out like you have."

"Oh, Sam..."

"I love you, Elsa, more than I can express." He kissed her lips, short and sweet.

"I love you too, Sweetheart. Otherwise, there's no way I'd be here right now." She smirked. "I would have let you and your friends do this alone."

She focused on her work and Sam set the stock on the table and took her hand, guiding her into the crevasses of the chamber with the brush. His chest touched her shoulder and the side of his face pressed against her cheek.

Elsa continued, "I couldn't stand to see you walk out that door and maybe I'd never see you again. I took that risk once before and you came back to me with a huge scar and a near-death experience under your belt."

"Honey, I'm sorry about that."

She turned her head until they were millimeters from a kiss. "I know. Some things are beyond your control."

He said, "I'm afraid that as long as Mike is in this precarious position, this is my life. I would give it up, but you told me that if I abandoned my friends, I wasn't the man you fell in love with." He shrugged. "So this is what we get."

Elsa set the bolt on the table, wiped her hands on the rag, and cradled his face in her hands. "I know, and I understand. That's why I'm here."

He touched her forehead with his and his voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. "It could get really dangerous tomorrow. I want you to stay here at the cottage."

"But..."

"No," Sam said and he pressed his lips to hers to cut off any protest. She moaned under his possession, and his heart raced as she teased him. Breathless, he broke away and willed himself to settle down. He still had work to do. But then he looked into her eyes and all his resolve dissipated like a morning fog. He said, "Hey, Baby, why don't you go warm up the bed. I'll be there in a little bit."

"You're sure you don't need my help," Elsa said. "Was I doing something wrong?"

He smiled at her in a way that always sent a shiver through her body without any contact from his. "You did just fine." In a voice full of desire, he said, "I'll put this gun back together and then I'll see you in the bedroom."

Shimmying out of her chair, she chuckled. "I'll be waiting, lover boy."

Elsa was like his kryptonite. Once he realized he wouldn't be getting any sleep, he resolved to stay awake and on guard, but she was too tempting to resist. Sam finished up with the rifle and put it back together in record time, and he retreated to the bedroom to give Elsa his love. She fell asleep in his arms, and he almost gave into that too, but he wanted to make sure that everything was ready for the morning. If they survived, he'd have time for a nap later.

* * *

"Sam was a busy boy last night," Fiona whispered to Michael as he entered the kitchen. Fiona stood near the table looking down at the collection of tools and cleaners and rags littering the surface. An old rifle lay across the table, its wood shining as if it had just been purchased.

"I wonder how late he was up," Michael asked as he looked down at his friend.

Sam was sleeping, his head resting on his right arm perched on the table. The other arm curled around and his hand lay atop the rifle. Michael picked it up and discovered that it was loaded. Moving the firearm caused Sam's hand to hit the table, and he shot up straight in his chair, eyes wide, looking for the disturbance.

"Sam, I'm sorry," Michael said. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Wake me? I was just resting my eyes."

"Uh huh." Fiona sauntered around the table and checked the coffee maker. The carafe held a half of a cup of coffee. "You were up all night, weren't you?"

"Well, somebody had to keep watch in case Raines decided to pull a sneak attack," Sam countered. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he rubbed his eyes. He glanced at his watch. "I must have crashed about four or so."

It was just after six according to Michael's watch. "Sam, you should go get some sleep. We're awake now, and we can take over." Sam was about to protest, but Michael held out a hand and said, "I don't want you anywhere less than one-hundred percent on this."

"I know." Sam shook his head and rose as slow as an old man, stretching out the aches. "Man, I'm too old to be sleeping like that. Wake me up before the witching hour, will ya?"

"Of course. I need you, Sam." Michael patted Sam's upper arm as he passed, a wistful smile on his face.

He hated putting his best friend in this position, not to mention his best friend's girlfriend. Had he really believed the illusion that he could just fade into the woodwork and no one would bother to come after him? He'd spent so much of his life putting the people he loved in danger, he didn't even think about how bad this could be. Michael was sorry, but at this point there was no sense in crying about it. Things were coming to a head, and as much as he hated getting everyone involved, he needed them if he was going to make it out of this alive.

A knock on the door surprised them. Michael hurried to the door and peered through the gap in the curtains to see Detective Weimann and Detective Gartner standing on the step. He unlocked the door, opened it a little and asked, "Jack? Donny? What are you guys doing here this early?"

"I heard that there was something going down today, an incident that might require some law enforcement to get involved," Jack said with a smile.

"Jack, no. This is my..."

"You're in my jurisdiction, Mike. I'm sticking my nose in your business whether you like it or not. Mind if we come in?"

Michael stepped back and opened the door and allowed Jack and Donny to enter the cottage.

"Morning, Fiona," Jack greeted her with a smile.

"Jack, and Donny." She pulled a fresh pot of coffee off the machine. "What, no donuts?" She smiled, but the expression was tense.

Donny let out a breath and replied, "Sorry, Fiona. We were a little preoccupied." He chuckled, the sound blanketed with an uncharacteristic hint of unease.

"Come on, have a seat and talk to us," Michael said. "What's up?"

"That's what we want to know." The four sat at the table with cups filled and Jack asked, "So, what's the plan? Raines is coming at ten, right? I have folks in town who'll be on the lookout for him and they'll let me know if he's on his way. So when he gets here, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to get him in a position where he has no choice but to listen to me," Michael replied. "Listen to reason, that killing me isn't going to solve anything. All it does is make me dead."

"Sounds reasonable enough. But... oh, that's where the island comes in." Jack nodded.

"Yes. That's why we need those fishermen to clear out in case bullets start flying," Michael confirmed Jack's conclusion.

"We've already got that covered. The boat cops will take care of it." A slight smile tipped up the corners of Jack's mouth.

Gartner added, "Bogie asked me why we wanted clear water space, and I told him some Hollywood types were coming around to film on the islands. You shoulda seen his eyes get big as saucers." He laughed. "I figured that would be a good enough explanation if people start shooting and creating a ruckus."

Michael looked at his new friends and smiled. "You guys are wasting your talents in a small town."

"Nah, talent has nothing to do with it. We just watch too many spy shows," Gartner quipped as he glanced at his partner. "Well, I do, anyway."

"We appreciate the assistance," Michael said. He waited a beat, expecting the men to get up and leave now that they told him things were arranged. Instead, Jack and Donny waited, and he knew they wanted in on the action. "You don't have to stay."

"Don't have to, but we will." Jack leaned forward. "I told you, Mike, we wanna help. I'm a good shot, so's Donny. We could take up sniping positions if you want us to. That'll leave you, Fiona and Sam to do the confronting."

"Come on, Mike, you know you could use more manpower," Donny said. "We're not going away, so either you use our help or we stand back and wait for the dust to settle and pick up the survivors."

Michael hung his head over his coffee. They were right. He just didn't want to have to drag anyone else down into his trouble. "Fine. I could use a couple snipers. Sam was going to take care of that, but we'll adapt." His smile was genuine when he flashed it at them. "Thank you."

"No problem." Jack sprung from his seat and slapped Donnie's arm with the back of his hand. "Now that we got that taken care of, let's go. I wanna get a good tree." He turned back to Michael and asked, "Where are you planning on setting up, at the beach on the island?"

"Yes. Unless Raines has other ideas, that's the planned meeting location."

The front bedroom door opened and Elsa and Sam came out together. Michael noticed he changed clothes, but he didn't look as if he'd gotten any sleep. "Sam, I thought you were going to take a nap."

"I can do that later. I hear you guys out here planning something, there's no way I'm gonna be out of the loop." He pulled a chair up to the table from where it sat next to the refrigerator and he settled into it, crossed his arms, and asked, "So, what did I miss?"

"Nothing yet," Fiona answered. "We're just getting our friends up to speed here and figuring how they fit into Operation Ambush CIA."

"You guys are helping?" Sam eyed the two. "Well, good, because I'd feel a whole lot better with more manpower. A couple more would be even better, but we don't have that."

"Don't worry, we'll make do. Now, let's go over the plan." With five people trained for handling the situation, Michael felt it was even more imperative for Elsa to stay at the cottage. She protested, but everyone agreed it was best. Positions and roles were assigned, and Michael hoped that they now had Raines outnumbered. There were certainly enough guns and ammunition on hand to put up a good fight, but Michael hoped that he would have only a war of words with his boss and that everyone would walk away satisfied.

"It's time to get everyone into place." Michael stood, grabbed one of the rifles propped against the wall, and addressed Sam's girlfriend. "Elsa, stay inside, in the bathroom, and keep the doors locked. I don't want Raines or whoever he brings along to grab you and use you as a bargaining chip."

"What if they break in," she asked.

Michael passed off a handgun to her. "I know you know how to use that." She nodded. "Aim high for the head. Shoot to kill." He glanced at the detectives.

"Listen to Michael," Donny said. "If they break in and you feel your life is threatened, you have every right to pull that trigger. Now, professionally, I never said that." He winked.

"Of course, thank you," she said with a slight tremor in her voice. As time was nearing for this plan to unfold, she didn't feel as brave as she did when it was all talk.

Michael said, "Okay, let's go get on that boat."

He and Fiona moved to the living room and out the door that faced the lake. Jack and Donny followed, and Sam was left alone with Elsa. He reached out and turned the bolt on the back door to lock it and on his way to pick up his guns, he stopped and grasped Elsa's upper arms.

"Sam, be careful," she said and scoffed at herself. "Listen to me. Of course you're going to be careful. It's just... just..." She blinked away the wetness in her eyes. "I'm scared."

He took her into his arms and held her tight, kissing her in the crook of her shoulder, and he said, "It's okay to be scared. I've been doing stuff like this for years and I still get the shakes." He chuckled. "So it's perfectly natural. Don't worry, Baby, we'll be back in no time. You'll see." He kissed her temple and let her go. "I better hurry up or they'll leave without me and I'll have to swim for it!" He laughed and smiled, hoping to put her at ease if only a little.

"Go. I'll be praying for you to come back safe." She planted a quick kiss on his lips and turned him toward his weapons. Elsa almost pushed him out of the cottage, because if he stayed one second longer, she would lock the front door and make sure he didn't leave. She couldn't stand the thought of losing him, even if it was to save a friend. All of her brave talk about him taking care of his friends now came back like a slap in the face, and she didn't like it.

"Don't forget, stay in the bathroom," Sam lectured her as he walked out the door. "And lock this door."

"I will." She followed him and snapped the bolt shut after he trotted down the steps and out to the dock.

Michael had the boat running waiting for Sam. Elsa watched through the picture window until they were gone and the boat turned into a speck on the water. Through the open window over the kitchen sink, she heard what sounded like tires on the gravel. With a gasp Elsa turned and dashed to the bathroom. She closed the door, locked it, and slammed the shade down on the window. She left a tiny sliver with which she could see outside and she climbed into the tub to wait, using the shower curtain for cover. No doubt the lock on the door wouldn't do much, but at least it would give her time to aim for a fatal shot when a body crossed the threshold.

"Dear God, help us." She whispered to herself, so soft that only she could hear it.

* * *

"Nobody's here. The place is locked up." The man dialed his phone. "Yes, Sir, it's Baxter. They're not here. There are four cars in the drive and one looks like a cop car. Yeah, the getaway car is here, a Jeep, and what we think is Glenanne's car." He listened a few moments and nodded. "Yes, Sir. We'll be waiting on the dock."

Baxter and his partner waited for the small boat to appear. Another agent was at the helm and Raines sat in a seat opposite him. He wasn't happy, and no one could blame him. He could have left this mission to his agents, but Raines wanted to make sure the deed was done. He had orders to fulfill from the President himself. His job was to make sure that Michael Westen took the retirement the government believed he deserved, and like the good agents they were, they would help to make sure that happened. As usual, Westen wasn't going to take it lying down.

As Raines and his three men neared the meeting point, he studied the small speck of land. It didn't have a lot of coverage options, yet he knew his team could very well be gliding into a trap. Despite his orders, Raines felt that Michael deserved this meeting on his terms. He shook off his reservations, trusting in Michael's integrity and his loyalty towards his old boss. Michael wouldn't set him up to be executed. Raines was confident of that.

The agent driving the boat sent the craft into a graceful curving trajectory to land at the beach next to a thirty foot cruiser that looked brand new. It didn't even have a name.

Baxter leaped the chasm between the two boats and did a quick inspection. He came up from below and announced, "There's no one on her, Sir. They've gotta be out there." He jutted his chin toward the tree line about fifty yards away.

Raines nodded. He looked at the water and gauged whether he could get off the boat without winding up with wet pant legs. Unless someone set up a gang plank from the bow, his five-year-old Armani suit was going to take a dip.

"Sorry, Sir. We were expecting there to be a dock," Agent Elias apologized as he turned off the boat's engine.

Great. Raines scanned the trees and hoped he might see someone who would give him a good reason to disembark into that water. Westen was as difficult to find as a chameleon. With a heavy sigh, he picked his way to the bow and took a long leap. He smiled when he realized that he would miss the water, but the hard packed sand came up fast. It was like landing on concrete.

Raines let out a curse as his ankle gave way and he fell, his hands and knees landing on the softer sand. If only he'd been able to go a few more feet!

"Sir, are you okay?" Baxter, who didn't have any qualms about getting his cheap suit pants wet, slogged through the shallow water to his side.

"I'm fine," Raines ground out through his teeth. Not only did they have this meeting on Michael's terms, now he looked like a fool flopping on the beach and twisting his ankle. He stood with Baxter's help.

"Can you put weight on it, Sir," Agent Oliver asked. He and Elias stood with wet pant legs, staring at him.

"Yes. Now let's find Westen and get this over with. I don't know why I agreed to meet here."

"Because you still have some respect for me, despite your orders."

Raines met Michael's intense gaze with his own, and he shook off the agents' hands to stand on his own before one of the best and brightest agents he'd ever seen in the Agency during his tenure. He smiled. "Michael, I'm glad you came to your senses. You can tell your friends to come out of hiding and nobody gets hurt, except for you."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

Michael squinted at Raines. "You see, they don't trust you like I did. You're going to have to prove that you don't intend to kill everybody."

"If it were up to me, I wouldn't want you dead. I still think you're a valuable asset to the Agency. But you pose a risk of going rogue and taking all our secrets with you."

"You really think I'd do that?" Michael stared at Raines in disbelief. "That would mean I'd be betraying not only the Agency but my country. I care a lot more about my country than you guys, personally, no offense."

"You're asking me to disobey a direct order from the President," Raines countered. "If I fail, this will ruin me as much as you. They'll send an elite team after you and you'll be running for the rest of your life." He held his hands out in a beseeching pose. "Michael, please. Don't do that to yourself, your family, and your friends. Just give up."

"Just because he's President doesn't mean he's right and he's got everything figured out," Michael replied. "Hey, if it'll help, if you can guarantee me safe travels, I'll show up at the Oval Office myself and convince him that I'm not the threat he thinks I am."

Raines stood staring at Michael, and a slow grin crossed his face as he chuckled. "You really think you can do that?"

"Okay, maybe I'll have to try stealth to get to him," Michael amended and turned a dead serious expression on Raines. "You know I could do it. And I could take care of things if he doesn't agree."

"Yes, you could." Raines nodded. "But you wouldn't. You're not Card, or Larry Sizemore. You're a good man, Michael."

"So we're agreed that this whole killing me thing is a bad idea. Great! Hey, you wanna go back to the cottage, and we'll hang out, slam down a beer…."

"I told you I don't have that choice."

Oliver took a step forward with his gun raised at Michael, and the crack of a rifle followed by sand kicking up six inches from his shoe was his reward for moving. He jumped back.

"Looks like Sam hasn't lost it," Raines said.

"Next one I won't be so nice," Sam yelled from his hiding place. The acoustics of the crescent shaped beach and tree line made it difficult, if not impossible, for them to determine where his voice came from, and no one saw the trajectory of the bullet. Sam's single shot made Raines and his men realize that they were like ducks in a shooting gallery. This was going to be a bloodbath if they expected to take out Michael where he stood.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"Well, what's it going to be, Director," Michael asked. "You don't kill me, we're all in trouble. You kill me, you follow orders, but my friends will take you and your men down, so everybody on this beach dies and nobody wins." He paused and thought for a moment. "Except for the President."

Raines spat out his response. "This is crazy."

"Isn't it," Michael replied with a dry laugh and crossed his arms, daring the agents to shoot him. "Even crazier is that if you do manage to kill me and my friends, the American people are going to find out about this little caper."

Raines gaped at him. "This is a clandestine operation, and you know what they say, dead men don't tell tales."

"True, except I have this little document that I sent to someone, and I won't tell who, but if they don't hear from me by a certain time tomorrow, said document and an accompanying article is going straight to the press." Michael grinned.

"You wouldn't..." Raines turned red. "That's not your style, Michael."

"Desperate times. You know how it is," Michael said and shrugged. "Anyway, the story of how you and your men chased me across how many states for over a week to kill me for knowing a few secrets, in payment for serving my country in the military before working as an agent, and risking my life for said country..." He sighed and shook his head in pity. "That's going to be a big black eye for the government."

Raines paled and stood before Michael, his mouth working but nothing coming out. He was trying to devise a way to save this situation, but Michael had him nailed. He smiled nervously and said, "We should sit down and figure out who gains from this whole fiasco anyway. If it were up to me, none of this would have happened."

"I'm glad to see you're still a reasonable man." Michael's eyes bored into Raines' as he spoke. "I'd hate to throw in the fact that you're going after an American citizen on American soil, which you know is very illegal. Worse than anything I might potentially do or say, don't you agree? I'm betting that's how the public will see it once this gets out."

Raines threw a bit of logic back at Michael with a slight smile on his face, expecting to see his favorite agent twitch. "If we followed through, you'd be dead. It wouldn't matter to you anymore."

"No, but I care about the fallout. The destruction of trust would be huge. Things are bad enough, and this would just blow the CIA to smithereens in the public eye." He lowered his voice. "Think about it, Raines. Everything you worked hard for all these years would be suspect, and with good reason. The Agency damage control people will be worked into straight jackets trying to contain this." He nodded at him. "Do you really want that?"

Michael knew how to play rough when necessary. He was well aware of how much Raines valued his career, that it wasn't just a job to him. It was a passion, and nothing else in his life mattered half as much. His younger protege used his weakness against him and that angered him, because he didn't like being so vulnerable. Raines was up against a wall and he had nowhere to turn.

The Director glanced over his shoulder at Oliver. "Put your gun down. Now." He glared at Baxter and Elias. "You too." Turning back to Michael, he said, "That beer idea sounded pretty good, although it is kind of early." He squinted at the sun still rising in the sky.

"Not around here," Michael said with a light tone, but his face showed he wasn't joking.

"Are Fiona and Sam going to put down their arms and come out of hiding," Raines asked. His eyes scanned the woods. He still couldn't see anyone, and it bothered him that he made his team vulnerable as a sign of goodwill and trust. The least they could do is reciprocate. "Sam, Fiona! I know you're in those woods. Come on out, arms down, and let's talk!"

The only sound was that of the breeze rustling the leaves and a faint rasp of whispers. Raines locked on Michael's gaze, his eyes telling him to order his friends to stand down. He didn't have the right to make him to do it since his former subordinate had been reduced to a target. No matter how this came out in the end, at the very least Raines would find himself crossed off Michael's Christmas card list. At the worst, lives would be wasted.

"Sam, Fi, stand down," Michael called over his shoulder. "Come on out, and we'll talk about this with the Director."

Behind their cover, Sam and Fiona had a line of sight to each other and their eyes met. "Mike knows what he's doing, Fi. Let's go." He set the safety on his rifle.

Fiona looked ready to chew through the trunk of the tree she hid behind and take on the four men herself. "Do you really believe that Raines is going to be amicable about this? He's been pursuing Michael relentlessly. Couldn't you see the blood in his eyes?"

"Maybe, but I think Raines is smart enough to realize that he's been going in circles chasing his tail. So let's go out there, hear him out, and then we'll decide whether to trust him or not. Besides, we've got our backup that they don't know about." He glanced up at Jack sitting in the crook of an oak nearby. He had a perfect line of sight to the agents and Raines.

Jack gave Sam a thumbs up. Fiona looked up at Donny in another tree, and he smiled at her and nodded.

"See? We've got nothing to worry about, Fi. These guys have our backs." Sam lowered his rifle and held out a hand to her. "Come on, let's do this. End the madness."

Fiona let out a noisy sigh. "Alright. But if Michael gets shot, you're next and the bullet won't come from the CIA."

"If I can, I'll take that bullet for him," Sam agreed. "You won't have to shoot me."

Fiona's expression softened. No doubt she was thinking of the recent past when Sam did indeed take a bullet for the team and almost died. Sam let her go ahead on the path that brought them to the beach, watching the tenseness in her back, knowing she wasn't happy about this turn in the drama. He wasn't too crazy about it either, but he trusted that if Mike hadn't been able to talk Raines down, he sure as hell wouldn't still be standing out there in the open and available to be snatched away by the CIA agents. Michael stood with Raines and the three agents on the sand waiting with calm stances, as if they were thankful that everything would soon be resolved.

"So, what happens now," Sam asked.

"We're going to the Emerald Isles to talk about this situation," Michael answered. "Then we'll come up with a solution. Something that will hopefully make the President happy, since he's the one who seems so intent on making sure I'm silenced."

"You want to do this in a bar?" Raines stared at him. "Michael, this is a matter of national security!"

"There's a small, private room at the tavern," Michael said. "As long as nobody gets out of hand, none of the other patrons will know about anything going on behind closed doors." He smiled. "Besides, it'll keep everybody honest. No shooting."

Raines nodded, his resolve crumbling. "You've got a good point. However, we could just as easily conduct our business here."

"Did you bring the beer," Sam asked.

Rolling his eyes, Raines answered. "What do you think, Axe? Of course not!"

"Well then, we better get going," Michael said with a grin.

"Okay, let's go. Mount up, men," Raines ordered, and the agents grimaced as they realized that getting back into the boat required them to get wet again.

A rhythmic thumping sound crept up on them, and Michael, Sam and Fiona looked up to see a helicopter closing in on the group. The chopper was civilian, but the guns that came out of the sides when the doors slid open were anything but the common variety rifle. They were high-powered, wielded by men who looked very intent on their work.

"What the..." Sam muttered.

"Raines," Michael exclaimed, aiming angry eyes that would have shot the Director dead if they'd been armed with bullets.

Fear and shock filled Raines' eyes. "It's not me! I had nothing to do with this!"

The first shot was a warning fired near Michael's feet. Sam raised his rifle and took off the safety at the same time he aimed at the attacker. He fired as the sniper got off another round. Sam's bullet hit its mark. The shooter grabbed his shoulder and he almost dropped his rifle into the lake while Sam shot again in quick succession, and the second bullet struck the sniper in the chest. He tumbled out of the chopper and hit the water flat on his back.

While Sam was shooting at the sniper, the CIA agents covered Raines, hesitant to fire on what could be their own people. A bullet grazed Baxter's arm, and he cried out and dropped to his knees in the water between the two boats, getting out of the line of fire. That shot effectively ended the question of whether the occupants were friend or foe.

"Take cover," Michael yelled and turned. "Sam, Fi, cover us!"

"You got it, brother," Sam answered as he fired off another shot.

The others retreated to the woods, Fiona and Sam covering them. From the trees, Jack and Donny took up the fight with the automatic rifles they brought with them. The chopper's occupants returned fire, but there were more guns shooting up at them than were firing from the air. Another sniper was hit and he slumped in his seat, but unlike his colleague, he was smart enough to wear a seat belt.

Seeing that his team was disabled, the pilot started to turn the chopper back to the north from where he came. Sam shot again and the bullet pierced the window, hitting the pilot in the shoulder. Jack and Donny hit him and the craft took a nosedive toward the lake.

"He's going down, stop firing," Sam barked.

Fiona let down her rifle, and Jack and Donny did the same. Michael, Raines and his men turned around and came out of the woods to watch the helicopter drop out of the sky and crash into the lake, sending up a wall of water at least a dozen feet high. Sam threw aside his gun, not caring what the sand might do to it, and he boarded the boat. He should have let the hold pump out longer than he did, but he wasn't about to let that pilot drown before they had a chance to interrogate him.

"Sam, wait!" Michael ran and grabbed onto the bow, pushing the boat off the sand bar that caused them to get stuck the first time they visited the island. He pulled himself up and hurried to the back of the boat as Sam started it and turned it around.

"Michael! Sam!" Fiona yelled at them, but it was useless. The two were already half way to the craft.

The water wasn't deep, but the bullet-ridden windshield was filling the cockpit with water. By the time Sam turned off the engine and dropped anchor, the water had entered the cargo area. Michael leaped into the helicopter and it wobbled and listed at a dangerous angle.

"Careful, Mike!"

"Yeah." Michael nodded and dropped through the open cockpit door.

Sam squinted, trying to see, but the water was too dark. Shaking his head, he dropped his sunglasses onto the dash and took the same leap as Michael, and his momentum caused him to slide and almost miss the opening. He grabbed onto a ceiling panel to stop himself, took a deep breath, and dropped into the blackness.

* * *

From the shore, Fiona watched with Raines and his men. Jack and Donny, seeing that the threat from the CIA had passed, descended from the trees and joined them with their guns at their sides, anticipating any other surprises that might come onto the scene. Fiona saw them approach and returned her attention to the lake.

"Dang, how long can they hold their breaths," Donny asked. "Maybe we better go out there and get 'em."

"Or call for help from the lake patrol," Jack said as he pulled out his cell phone.

"Hey, who are these guys," Raines asked as he stared at the two detectives.

"Oh, they're a couple of friends," Fiona replied with a smile. "Detectives Jack Weimann and Donny Gartner, Eagle River PD. Guys, this is Director Raines of the CIA."

"The spook weasel trying to kill Michael. Yeah, we got that," Jack said with a derogatory tone in his voice aimed at Raines. "Looks like your little plan went to hell in a hand basket, hey?"

"I don't know who those people were in the helicopter. They weren't part of the plan," Raines protested.

"Yeah, well, if that's so, then guess what? Seems like the President was probably trying to take care of you too, kill two spooks with one stone, so to speak. Ain't that a fine reward for loyalty." He spat a wad of chewed up gum into the sand.

Donny smiled. "I wish we could be there in the Oval Office when the Prez gets a load of that article in the paper." He winked at Raines. "Yeah, you're all nice now and don't wanna kill Mike, but if this was some secret hit squad that the President sent out, it's even more imperative to print that story."

If Raines didn't think he could get any paler, he was wrong. He felt as if he would pass out at any moment. "This will ruin the CIA."

"Not to mention the President. I always thought there was something not quite right about that guy..." Jack was interrupted by a boat horn, and his attention moved to the action on the lake. "They're coming back."

"Michael, Sam, did you get him," Fiona asked as she neared the water and the boat drifted into the lagoon.

"We got the pilot," Michael answered. "But he's not in good shape. We need to get him to a hospital fast."

"Alright. Come on, Donny, we'll go with them. Fiona..."

"I'm not staying here with them!" Fiona grabbed Sam's rifle from the sand and ran through the shallow water, her knees coming up to combat the drag of the water. She threw the guns over the side. One made a muffled thump.

"Fi, watch it! You just hit the guy with your gun," Michael chided.

"He deserves more than that," Fiona replied as she climbed up the rope ladder Michael threw over the side for her and the detectives to get into the boat.

When they were all aboard, Michael addressed Raines. "We'll talk later. Meet us at the Emerald Isles at seventeen hundred. If you're not there, the article goes live. If we're not there, it goes live. Either way."

Raines nodded. "We'll be there, Michael. I promise you."

Michael nodded and patted Sam's shoulder. Sam put the boat into reverse and backed away from shore, turned the craft, and hit the throttle after steering around the helicopter with its tail sticking almost straight in the air.

"We better get out of here before that lake patrol they talked about comes around. We'll go back to the motel and wait for seventeen hundred hours." Raines let out a breath as he sloshed through the water to the boat. "I really didn't think this was how my retirement was going to happen!"


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Elsa waited in the tub long after the men sped off in the boat, until she heard the muffled staccato of automatic weapons. Then she unlocked the bathroom door and burst out with her gun aimed at anyone who might be standing outside it. Later she would ponder how foolish such a move was, but at the moment all she could think about was what seemed to be happening on the island. Fortunately for her, she was alone. Over the swish of the breeze outside the open windows and the tat-tat of gunfire, her breath chugged out of her lungs at an alarming rate and her head swam making her feel dizzy.

Somehow, Elsa made it to couch in front of the picture window, knelt on the cushions, and looked across the lake just in time to see the helicopter take a nosedive into the water. Her gasp raked through the silence.

"Sam, please be okay. Please. Please. Please." The word became a litany in her head as she watched the new boat with two figures crossing to the chopper. Through the binoculars Evan kept for bird watching she saw Sam and Michael on board and her breathing slowed. "Thank you, God. They're okay."

Michael and Sam rescued the pilot, headed back to the island, and picked up the rest of the team before tearing toward the dock. Elsa's phone rang, and she raced to the kitchen to pick it off the counter and answer.

"Hello?"

"Elsa, it's me."

"Sammy, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. We've got a guy here who won't be if we don't get him to the hospital. He was part of a special team sent to take us all down, but we need him alive to find out who sent him."

Elsa stifled a cry. "But you're okay?"

"We're fine. Get the Jeep ready, because we're gonna need something to haul this guy to the hospital."

"Why don't I call for an ambulance," Elsa asked.

"No," Sam exclaimed. "Don't do that! We need to keep this on the down-low. Jack and Donny will make sure this stays out of the police records, and if Raines cooperates… well, anyway, we'll be there in about five minutes. Have the Jeep ready, honey, okay?"

"Sure, Sammy. I-I'll see you soon." She let out a relived breath. "I'm so glad you're safe."

"For now. See you soon." He closed the connection.

He didn't say, "Love you, Baby." That phrase had become a signal that all was not well. Not hearing it made her feel more confident that if nothing else, Michael had a reprieve. Elsa grabbed the keychain that hung on a hook over the kitchen counter and pushed her way through the back door to retrieve the vehicle from the garage. By the time she had the back end parked near the dock, Sam was steering the boat alongside the pier and Michael jumped out to tie it to the piling. Jack and Donny each had an end on the pilot and handed him up to Michael and Fiona. He was heavy, but Fiona had no trouble helping Michael haul him to the Jeep.

"I found a tarp in the garage and spread it out, in case he was bleeding," Elsa told Sam as Michael and Fiona situated him in the back.

"You did great, Elsa." Sam passed her and caressed her cheek. "You stay here with Jack and Donny. We'll be back soon."

"Sam, why don't you stay here with Elsa," Michael said. "Fi and I will take our prisoner to the hospital, and we need the guys to help keep this under wraps."

"Yeah. You're right." Sam stopped half in the Jeep's driver's seat and got out to stand beside the open door. "Be careful, Mike. If the pilot radioed someone before he went down…."

"I know. Don't worry, we've got good backup." He nodded at the detectives who ran to their vehicle.

Sam waved at the Jeep as Michael drove it down the lane with the detectives' car following behind. The roar of engines and snapping gravel disappeared, and the contrast of the soft breeze and gentle lapping of waves on the beach was almost surreal. Sam hated times like this, when the threat was gone and he had to jam on the emotional brakes. Done the wrong way, it was like crashing into a brick wall. Elsa hugged him to her side. He smiled. Thank God she was there to help bring him back down to earth. He turned her toward the cottage.

"Let's go inside. I could really use a beer right now."

"It's still kind of early for that." She smiled. "Don't go all native on me now, Sammy."

Elsa stood on the kitchen threshold two steps above him, looking down with expectation in her eyes. He laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle as he enveloped her in his arms and pulled her down to kiss her lips as he met her half way. Sensing her increasing desire brought his to life. Sam pulled her into his body, grasped her thigh and guided her leg around his waist. The other came up and around him, and he carried her into the cottage. His hand fumbled for the door as they kissed and he blazed a trail down her neck.

He was grateful for her taking charge of the door. Without a word Elsa slid down his body until her feet hit the floor. She slammed and locked the door with one hand, took his hand with her free one, and he had no doubt that her fingers sensed his racing pulse through his palm. He shivered in anticipation when she led him to the bedroom, and he had to control himself to keep from ripping the clothes off of Elsa's body once they were in the room. This wasn't the first time he'd come to her after a job or a mission, but he'd never been this fresh from a fight.

"I was so scared," she whispered. "Scared for you, not me. I'm so glad you're safe."

"It's okay. I didn't even get a scratch…." She attacked his lips with hers, and all his restraint melted away like an ice cube in the summer heat. Something ripped, but all he cared about was the heat of her skin against his and the sigh of her breath like a soothing breeze as he made love to her. The cadence increased as she neared the edge, and he went with her, his release taking the last of his strength. Tangled up together in the afterglow was like heaven, and the steady rapping of knuckles on the door was the only thing that could mar it. Sam went on instant alert and pressed a finger to her lips. He froze above her, afraid one twitch would make a sound and let the caller know that someone was inside.

"Ah, looks like nobody's home."

"Yeah. Let's move onto the next cottage. Somebody had to have seen what happened out on the lake."

Feet thumped down the steps, and the voice faded as the owner moved away from the structure. "I coulda sworn I heard something in there before I knocked on the door."

"Don't worry about it. We'll try again later, but right now we've got a lot more places to check."

Neither Sam nor Elsa moved until the motor on the boat started up and faded away as the cops moved on to the next dock up the coast. Sam let out a breath and collapsed beside Elsa.

"What do we do when they come back," Elsa asked.

"Hopefully we'll be meeting Mike and Fi and Raines' team by then." He wrapped an arm around her torso. "It's gonna be okay."

"I trust you, Sam, and your friends. It's everybody else I have issues with."

He laughed and burrowed into her shoulder. "You and me both, Babe."

* * *

Sam parked the car in front of the Emerald Isles Tavern. Three other cars occupied spaces in front and one sat along the side of the building. The rest of the lot was empty. He got out and thought how meeting at the Emerald Isles at seventeen hundred hours was a good move and afforded them some privacy for their conference with Raines. It was too early for the hard drinking crowd, the daytime barflies were off to catch a meal somewhere, and the few who remained took advantage of the tavern's offerings.

"Looks like Mike and Fi are here, and so are Jack and Donny." Sam's eyes fixed on the sedan along the side. Its no-nonsense style and immaculate condition screamed government vehicle. "Yep, Raines and his guys must be here. I had my doubts he'd show, but with the threat of exposure hanging over his head and almost getting killed by that special team, I guess that would make anybody re-examine their options."

The dinner special, written in bold letters on a chalkboard near the door, was lamb stew. Its scent wafted from the kitchen, tempting their taste buds when Sam opened the door and let Elsa inside. He stopped and let his eyes adjust to the lower light inside and noted that a couple sat at one end of the bar, but otherwise the place appeared to be empty. At the bar, McCready pointed to a private room to the right and nodded at the couple. "Your friends are waiting in there," he said. "They said to draw a few pitchers when you arrived, so I'll have those for you in a minute." His gaze locked on Sam. "I'll get a mojito for you if you like."

"You remembered." Sam smiled.

"I've got a very good memory," McCready announced with a grin.

"Thanks, but I'll have the same as everybody else." He paused. "We'll see if we're in a celebrating mood later." Sam led Elsa to the private room. It wasn't very large, but it could hold ten people without being uncomfortable. Conversation hushed when Sam slid the pocket door aside and ushered Elsa into the room. He turned to close it, but McCready was right behind him with three pitchers. Two were filled with beer, and one held water. The waitress came behind with ten glasses.

"Alright, here you go, folks. If you want any appetizers or anything, just let me know." He set a basket of peanuts in the center of the table. "Otherwise, this is all we've got."

"We're fine for now, thanks," Michael said, waving off the man. He sat in his chair with an appearance of being at ease to anyone who didn't know him. To Sam and Fiona, he looked as if he was ready to spring out of his chair and kick some ass if he didn't get some answers soon.

McCready left and closed the door on his way out, while Sam and Elsa took their places at the two long tables that had been pushed together lengthwise to create a large rectangle. Raines and his men took up one long side. Michael, Fiona, Sam, and Elsa took up the other, and the Jack and Donny took up the narrow sides. It was quiet except for the hum of the wall unit air conditioner and the muffled rhythmic thumping of the jukebox on the other side of the wall. The proverbial pin was about to drop when Michael finally spoke.

"I want to know why you're hell bent on killing me," he said with his eyes locked on Raines. "We worked together how long? I thought you respected me. You cut me a lot of slack, bent over backwards to help me in my work, but now it seems like you'll stop at nothing until I'm dead. What happened?" By the end of his tirade, Michael's eyes were wet. He'd been betrayed by a man he respected and esteemed to a point where he would have called him a dear friend. But that would never do, since they had a professional relationship in which friendship could only get in the way. The fact that he was devastated at the man's campaign against him proved it. Personal feelings had no business in their sphere.

"Michael, I'm sorry. This wasn't personal. I was ordered to do this, by the President..."

Sam banged a fist on the table. "Why? Why does he want Mike dead? He's the best damn spy this country has had!"

"It's simple. Michael knows too much, things that, if he aired them, would ruin the President." Raines answered and shook his head. "I tried to tell him all he'd need is for you to sign a gag order." It was his turn to lock eyes on Michael. "I assured him that he could trust you would never break such an order. But he wouldn't listen. He was afraid that if circumstances called for it, you would throw out the contract." He smirked, but there was no amusement in the expression. "Your reputation as a rule bender and breaker has gotten you into this, Michael."

"But he only breaks the law when the result is of benefit to someone we're helping," Fiona protested. Her hands pressed flat into the table and she bounced in her seat as if she was ready to launch herself at Raines. His agents watched her with suspicion.

"Yes, everyone knows that," Raines said. "But the President felt he couldn't take that chance. If Michael was dead, he could sleep better at night."

"There are pills for that now. Tell him that," Sam retorted and leaned forward in his seat. "Seriously though, if he has trouble sleeping at night, maybe he needs to take a good look at what he's doing. What Mike did in the past, a lot of that was dictated by other Presidents making bad decisions, so he's not all to blame. I'm just saying that maybe the man needs to reassess how he's getting the job done."

"Coming from a man who went against orders, befriended a fake terrorist group, and kidnapped two CIA agents." Raines' smile covered the ice in his tone.

"You weren't there, Raines. I had no choice. Sure, I disobeyed orders, but the situation required that I think outside the box." Sam sat against the seat back and dangled an arm over it. "Some people can't do that, like those two dead weight jerks you dropped into the jungles of Columbia, Bailey and Menaro. Those morons couldn't figure their way out of a box if someone gave them a knife and an open side."

"Let's get back to why we're here, please," Fiona ground out through her teeth. She directed her gaze at Raines. "You are under orders to kill Michael. You'd rather not fulfill those orders, am I right?"

"Yes, that's correct," Raines answered with confidence in his tone.

"The President has some bad reasons for wanting Michael dead. We just have to somehow convince him that keeping him around would be in his best interests." She glanced at Michael and said, "I think Michael needs to go and meet with him, face to face, and offer up a signed agreement that he will not divulge anything from his time with the CIA."

"We have a non-disclosure clause in every agent's contract," Raines said. "It's just not good enough in this case."

She smiled at Michael. "It must feel pretty good knowing that one of the most powerful men in the world is afraid of you."

"Oh, please," Sam scoffed. "That's an everyday occurrence for Mikey."

Tense laughter filled the room and silence came down and settled like a mantel around them. Michael was the one who broke it. "Raines, where is the President?"

"He's in..." He leaned toward Baxter, who sat silent with a thick bandage wrapped around his upper arm where he'd been clipped by one of the attempted assassins.

Baxter answered woodenly. "Campaigning for the party, Sir. He's in Omaha today."

"Okay, he's in Omaha. Why?" Raines stared at Michael.

With a bit of warmth in his voice, Baxter added, "Sir, he'll be in Madison tomorrow night for a fundraiser, a ten thousand dollar a plate dinner."

Raines paled as he watched the emotions cross Michael's face. He went from disillusioned to empowered in a matter of seconds, and Raines feared what wild plan his former protege was hatching in his mind. Raines couldn't blame the President for wanting him dead. Westen was too creative for his own good sometimes, and so often it turned deadly for someone else.

"Michael, please tell me what you've got on your mind."

"What time is it," Michael asked.

"It's almost five thirty," Sam answered.

Michael's smile turned into a grin. "Let's order something. I don't think any one of us has had anything since breakfast, and I'm starving. Then we'll put a plan together... together." His eyes locked on Raines with a warmth that the Director hadn't seen in awhile. Without saying so, everyone knew that Michael didn't blame Raines. He was only following orders, and now he also sat under a cloud of danger. It would be to their benefit to work as a team to neutralize the threat.

"I can hardly wait to hear what you have planned." Raines smiled.

* * *

Michael tugged on his bow tie and readjusted it for the umpteenth time. It still felt like the material would strangle him if he turned the wrong way. In all his time in Miami and on the run, he abandoned business suits and ties and had gotten used to it. The corner of his mouth tipped up in amusement, because he finally understood why Sam hated covers that required him to get dressed up like a trained monkey. After this, Michael hoped he wouldn't have to wear a tuxedo, let alone a suit, for a long time.

"Are you ready, Mike," Sam asked as he stood in the open doorway. He wore a black tuxedo similar to Michael's, except his bow tie and cummerbund were a deep blue.

Michael sighed. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be, I guess." He turned away from the full length mirror and followed Sam to the living area in the suite.

Elsa and Fiona waited for them with growing impatience. Michael could tell Fiona had had about enough of his stalling, just by the way she stood with her weight on one hip, the long, flowing skirt of her evening gown fluttering with each press of the toe of her platform shoe into the carpet. She looked stunning in the shimmery champagne colored dress, but her deep red lips puckered and further emphasized her mood.

Near the door, Elsa stood before a mirror and checked her makeup, hair, and the elegant blue off-the-shoulder dress that matched Sam's accessories. At least she was a little more subtle about her eagerness.

"Well, this is it. Showdown time," Sam said with gravity. He joined Elsa at the door, opened it, and checked the hallway before stepping out of the room and motioning for everyone else to follow.

"Don't you think this plan is just a little bit insane," Elsa asked in a low voice as she fell into step beside Sam.

"It's the only way, Baby. Catching him with his pants down, so to speak, make a point and force his hand," Sam replied. He offered her his arm and she slipped her hand over the crook of it. "Smile, Sweetheart. We don't want to tip off the Secret Service that anything is out of order."

She whispered. "You make it sound like you're planning to kidnap the President."

The four entered the empty, open elevator, and Michael said, "You make it sound like such a bad thing." His eyes twinkled with mischief, but his straight body language and thin smile indicated the seriousness of this mission, the last one under Raines' direction, although he wasn't under orders. This plan was born of collaboration between Michael and his ex-boss, and he had to fight the sense of excitement that reminded him of his early days with the Agency. He was so inexperienced, it was a wonder how he made it this far.

Michael handed Sam his invitation and he held onto the one that would get Fiona and him into the ballroom. This wasn't Washington, it was Madison, and the President was too busy campaigning to be concerned about anything besides rubbing elbows with the deep-pocketed people of Wisconsin. He would never expect Michael Westen to appear at his elbow and shatter his perfect evening.

"We'll keep an eye on him and approach him later, after we've mingled awhile and no one perceives us as a threat," Michael reviewed the plan as the elevator took them down to the main level where the opulent ballroom was located.

The doors opened and the couples split up to find the tables where they were sitting for the dinner. He found it hard to swallow the meager offerings on his plate. He had no problem with gourmet dining. His nerves were what betrayed his stomach, so Michael dabbled with a bite here and there while listening and contributing now and then to the conversation going around the table. Some of the most wealthy elite members of Wisconsin industry were sitting with Michael and Fiona, who found herself in an engaging discussion about clothes and designers with an industrialist's wife. Despite his jangling nerves, if he and Sam didn't do this soon, Michael thought he would go crazy with boredom.

Sam and Elsa sat close enough to the President to hear his conversation if Sam leaned back in his chair just right. Michael was a bit jealous because not only was he closer to the subject of their mission, instead of stuffy industrialists, Sam was stuck with local brewers. From where he sat, Michael could see that they were drinking beer, local brews straight from the bottle, and the diners were animated and appeared to be a lot more fun. Michael was afraid that the free flowing beer might prevent his friend from doing his job, but whenever he stole a glance, he knew by Sam's body positioning that he was keeping tabs on what was happening at the President's table.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement, and Sam held up his bottle, swirled it, and took a deep drink. That was the signal. For a split second, Michael tensed at the moment he'd been waiting for, and strange enough he had a twinge of fear creeping up his spine. Fiona touched his arm, looking at him with a question in her eyes. He shook his head and pulled the napkin from his lap, wiped his mouth, and laid it on the table.

"If you'll excuse me a minute." He stood without waiting for an acknowledgement and measured his steps. He didn't want to reach the restroom before the President did, or everything would be ruined. He scanned the room and saw Sam following behind the man's entourage of security, but not too close to appear that he was following.

The President entered the restroom the same time that Sam approached his side. "Okay, you ready to do this, brother?"

"What would you say if I said no?" He shook his head. "Of course, I'm ready." He relaxed, despite the jitters inside, and he threw an arm over Sam's shoulders and leaned into him.

"Here, loosen up that tie," Sam said as he pulled on it.

Michael batted his hand away. "Hey, I spent hours tying that thing!"

Sam's fingers slipped past Michael's hand and loosened the bow tie. "Well you did a crappy job, Mike." He undid a couple buttons. "Okay, now start looking miserable."

"I am miserable."

Sam gave him a withering look. "More miserable. Jeez, Mike, in your retirement, don't ever take up acting. You suck at it." Just for that, Michael went limp in Sam's grip, causing him to drag him to the door where two Secret Service agents stood blocking the entrance. "Now that's more like it!"

"Sorry Sirs, you can't go in there," one of the big burly men informed Sam and Michael.

Michael looked up at them with a pitiful sick look in his eyes. He let his knees loosen up and he almost hit the floor, but Sam gripped him tighter.

"Oh, come on, guys, my friend is gonna be sick. You want that, right out here on this nice carpeting?"

"There are other restrooms..."

"He's not gonna make it," Sam exclaimed. "Please, just let us through." Michael slipped farther and Sam was almost kneeling on the floor. "Hey, buddy, come on. Don't pass out on me now, okay?"

"He looks like he needs medical attention," the other security man observed.

"He just needs to get in there and..."

Michael chose that moment to make gagging noises, and his body heaved as if he was about to lose his miniscule dinner on the Secret Service agents' shoes.

"Woah, woah, okay. He's not going to make it, we got it." The agent moved to the side and pushed open the door. "Make it quick in there, and don't try anything. We've got two other agents inside."

"Thanks so much," Sam said. "We really appreciate this. Bless you guys." He babbled as he and Michael entered the restroom. It was roomy with plenty of space for the two agents to keep watch over the only closed stall.

"Hey, what are you two doing in here," one of the agents barked.

Michael straightened, twisted, and locked the door. He turned back to them and replied, "We just need a minute of the President's time."

"Make an appointment like everybody else, Sir." One agent came forward and he quickly learned that Michael was not one to be trifled with. With a couple of swift moves, Michael had him on the floor out cold.

The other agent moved in on Sam, but the older man surprised him with his agility. With a few moves, Sam got him pinned over the vanity and stripped his gun from him. "Easy peasy, huh Mike?" To the agent, he said, "Now, you just chill out and sit down there with your unconscious friend, okay? We'll take care of our business and be out of your hair in a few minutes."

The toilet flushed inside the stall and the door opened. The President was on his cell phone, talking, and his eyes widened at the sight of his agents on the floor, the two outside banging furiously on the door, and the subject of his Presidential order standing less than ten feet away. He gaped, then closed his mouth as he brought the phone up to his ear. "Uh, yes, Senator, that would be great. We'll talk about this tomorrow. Right now, I have to take care of something." Without waiting for a goodbye, he closed the connection and stood with his back close to the stalls. "Westen. I should have known it wouldn't be easy for my people to take you down."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"Sir, are you alright in there," one of the Secret Service agents yelled through the door.

"I'm fine," he answered with a hint of humor and a slight smile on his face. To Michael, he said, "I heard you had a thing for conducting business in bathrooms. I should have been more careful." He smirked. "At least this way it won't be so difficult for the staff to clean up the mess."

"There's no reason for there to be a mess, Sir," Michael said, and he took a cautious step closer to the President and held his hands up, indicating that he had no weapons. "I just want to talk."

The President's eyes narrowed. "Talk about what?"

"This governmental jihad you've got against Michael Westen, that's what," Sam barked a reply. Michael glared at him, but Sam would not be silent. "Pardon my being candid, Sir, but you're making a hell of a mistake gunning it out for Mike. He's a good, decent man. For years he did a lot of nasty things for his country because that's what guys like you ordered him to do. He risked his life for his homeland. And this is the thanks he gets? A death sentence for just wanting to fade into the woodwork and be a normal citizen? That's crazy, Mr. President."

"I can't take the risk that..."

"That he'll say something about some of the more unsavory things he's done for the good old US of A?"

"Sam..."

"I'm sorry, Mike. I can't just stand here and listen to the excuses." Sam turned to glare at the President. "The day the leader of our country decides it's open season on guys like you, Mike, that's the day I'm ashamed to be an American."

"It's okay. I think I've got this." Michael stepped forward as he reached into his lapel pocket and pulled out a couple sheets of folded paper. "This is short, sweet, and to the point, Mr. President. If you agree to this, we'll sign it and there'll be no one coming after me, and I can go on my way and try to live a normal life." Michael shook the papers in front of the President until he snatched them from his hand and began to skim the document. It was one very long paragraph but less than a page long.

He glanced up at Michael. "You're serious about this?"

"Would I have gone through all this trouble if I wasn't?" The dour expression on his face was enough to convince the President that he wasn't joking, and that if he didn't take the appropriate action he might be spending a lot of quality time in the restroom that night.

"You know you're committing a felony here, both of you, by holding me."

Sam's eyes turned to Michael and averted back to the President, but he said nothing. He stood with the agent's pistol in his hand, his posture straight and his face set in determination.

"If you don't sign that, it won't matter," Michael declared with an emotion-laden voice. "My life is over, and I'll just be on the run until someone gets to me. Sam is my best friend, and he's vowed to go down with me, so that would be two of us."

"Three, if you count Fi," Sam added. "You know she won't let you run off without her covering your back."

"Elsa..."

"No, Mike." He blinked, the full impact of what that unsigned document meant to his life. "I'll send her home with a good long kiss goodbye, and a promise that she won't wait for me." He blinked twice in quick succession. "That's the way it's gotta be."

The President's mouth hung open as he listened to the exchange between the two men. All this time he'd heard the Michael Westen stories, and his advisors told him it wasn't safe for this man to be walking around with sensitive government secrets stashed in his brain. Yet he wasn't the only one who knew them. Sam Axe was surely privy to a lot of information, being a former SEAL. At the moment, however, they were just two guys who cared a lot about each other, like brothers, and neither one would abandon the other for any reason. That was loyalty bound up with an integrity that no one in the President's inner circle seemed to have. Even he felt put to shame.

He looked at the paper again and reread it. This time he pored over the words and he realized that the content was no different than the standard non-disclosure clause. Not on the surface, but between the lines, it held so much more.

"You believe every word on this paper," the President asked Michael.

Michael stood straight, almost at attention, as he answered. "Yes. I wrote it, so I stand by everything on it."

"Okay." The President nodded and moved toward the vanity as he patted his lapel. "Okay, where's my pen?"

Michael and Sam stepped back and let the President set the paper on the counter between the sinks. Michael pulled a pen from his inner pocket and handed it to the President with a smile. "Here, Sir, use mine. Sam was afraid you might try to sign it with a pen that had disappearing ink in it or something, so I decided to bring one that I knew had no such magical qualities."

The President turned his head toward Sam as he clicked the top of the pen. "You're a funny guy, Axe. I've heard a few things about you from some of your former Commanders."

"I'm sure the tales got taller as they were passed on, Sir," Sam replied with little emotion, his stance stiff even with his hands behind his back.

"Sure." He grinned, finished the last flourish of his signature, and took a step backwards as he held up the pen. "Michael?"

Michael nodded and signed his name under the President's on both copies, and when it was finished, he kept one and handed the other to the President, along with the pen. "Here you go, Sir. And allow me to give you that pen as a gift. Let's just call it a reminder that you can keep on your desk at all times, so you won't forget our little restroom summit."

The President was smiling, but there was no guile in the gesture. He was trying to hide his amusement. He shook Michael's hand and said, "I like you. I really do. And you may not believe this, but I wish you good luck."

"Thank you, Sir." He didn't believe him, but Michael had a piece of paper as proof that he could be trusted.

The President tucked the paper and pen away in his tuxedo jacket and said, "Good evening, gentlemen." He turned and walked to the door. The agents were on their feet again, tucking and making themselves presentable, although nothing could wipe off the chagrin on their faces. They'd been bested by Michael Westen and his friend, and the President had every right to fire them. One agent unlocked and opened the door, and he poked his head out before letting the President leave.

"Hey, what's going on in there! Who locked the door!" The agents on the other side spoke over each other, clamoring for answers.

"It's alright," the President said as he pushed past the agent at the door. "I had a highly secretive meeting in there. Nothing you need to worry about." With a conspiratorial glance at Michael, the President exited the bathroom. "And leave those guys alone. Let's just get back to this lame party, shall we?"

* * *

The outboard engine whined as the small boat sped over the water, its front end bobbing up and down on each wave as the bow made contact. Jack was at the wheel grinning and glancing back now and then, having the time of his life with Donny and their new friends. The sun shone on them, baking anyone who dared to go out without sunscreen. The lake was like a mirror reflecting all the UV rays up at anyone who came out to enjoy the warm summer day.

"Woah! Jack, stop!" Sam yelled.

Jack turned to look at why Sam called out, and he shut down the throttle while turning in a small arc to head back. Michael was in the water, treading the wake when Jack pulled up beside him. "Hey, Mike, you okay?"

Donny and Sam gave him a hand into the boat as he replied. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just lost my balance, hit that wake, and bam! I was down."

"Oh, don't let him kid ya, he was hot doggin' it," Sam teased. "I should have warned you guys. You teach Mikey to do something and he'll push the envelope."

"What'd he do? I was watching as much as I could and then you wiped out."

"I was trying to ride the wave from the wake and do a flip over it like Donny did." Michael replied and grinned. "He made it look easy."

"I've been waterskiing since I was about seven or eight, Mike," Donny informed him. "Now, don't you go breakin' your neck and using me as your excuse. I'd hate to be the cause of an old retired guy winding up in traction."

"Old guy?"

"Well, the little whipper snapper's got the retired part down, Mikey."

The four men laughed and joked with each other all afternoon. Michael toned down his attempts at fancy waterskiing. Sam was wise enough to act as spotter and leave the dangerous stuff to his friend. They had two weeks of quiet bliss, relaxing, fishing, waterskiing, and spending time in the forest around the area. At first it was hard for Mike. He spent the first few days trying so hard not to find some problem that needed a solution. He succeeded, but the effort put into the search wasn't worth it. Sam tagged along only because knew his friend wouldn't be able to get over the hump until he did this. Afterwards, he figured out how to keep Michael busy while helping him to acclimate to life without spying, and he slowly unwound his tight spring.

Sam's phone rang, and he answered it. "Yeah, honey."

"Supper is ready. If you're not here in ten minutes, the girls and I are eating it all. Every bit."

"Uhoh, no reason to do that, Baby. We're on our way!"

Jack glanced at Michael with a stern frown. "Looks like we got 'the call'. Better head in." He turned back to the helm and put on the throttle to speed them to the dock.

The men returned to find the picnic table and a card table extending it at the end, covered with a long linen cloth, and the everyday plates set at each seat. Jack's wife Deanna worked the grill while Donny's girlfriend Sienna and Fiona and Elsa brought dishes of food from the cottage. The last time Michael had experienced anything like this was when he was a kid. His mind wandered to a long-buried memory of his Mom and Dad, Nate, and him at a family picnic. It was fun playing with cousins that he rarely got to see because they all lived out of state. Everything had been going so well until Frank got into a brawl with Uncle Mike, his brother. Michael had been told that he was named after him, and that he and his father Frank were such close brothers. But Michael never saw that. Every time they got together, they both wound up drunk and fought.

Maybe that was why Michael had never been keen on getting too close to Nate. He regretted that now, but back then, he thought he was being smart. It didn't stop at his family. Keeping people at arm's length always seemed to be the best policy. You didn't get hurt that way and neither did they, at least in theory. As he sat beside Fiona, Michael gazed at her, thinking about how much he'd hurt her over the years. That ended with his retirement. From now on they would be together forever, and maybe some day he would get up the nerve to ask her to marry him.

Across the table, Sam and Elsa sat so close, she was almost in his lap. A bee landed on her plate, Elsa gasped and looked for a quick escape, but Sam grabbed a paper napkin and squashed it before she could get away.

"Are you okay? It didn't sting you, did it?" She fought between wanting to make sure he was uninjured and staying away from that crushed bee, on the off chance that it wasn't really dead.

Sam laughed, balled up the paper and flipped it over his shoulder. It landed on the hot coals on the grill and flared up the second the paper touched the white hot coals. "I'm fine, but if you wanna kiss it..." He puckered up for her.

"Ohhh, you!" She smacked his lips with hers and turned her attention to her plate.

Michael watched the exchange and smiled. He never knew how good it felt to have nothing pressing on his schedule, to be among friends, and to share the camaraderie and love that flowed around them. He almost didn't want to return to Miami, but Elsa had been away for a month and if she could go back to her life, so could he. Only for him, things would be different.

"Hey Sam, I was thinking about when we go back."

Sam raised his eyes and met Michael's, his eyebrows raised. "What? Are you going to go live with your Mom?"

Laughing, he replied, "No. I was thinking..." He checked Elsa to see her reaction to his proposal. He knew that if she disapproved, it could break his chances of making this work. "I was thinking that you and I could open up a private detective agency. And Fiona is eager to join us."

"Really? No more shady arms dealing, Fi?" Sam stared at her.

She hesitated and Jack exclaimed, "Okay, I did not hear that. I didn't need to hear that!"

"Don't worry, Jack. Those days are gone." Fiona gave Sam a thin smile. "I want to work with Michael, and you of course. But what does Elsa think about this?"

All eyes fell on Elsa and she felt the heat creep into her cheeks. She and Sam had spent a good part of the previous evening discussing this subject out on the beach, and at times it turned into a war. Ultimately, it wasn't up to her. She knew that working with Michael made him happy, and everyone knew she loved Sam so much she only wanted to see him content with whatever he did. Sometimes it caused jealousy to well up in her because she would have preferred that Sam work with her, but when he came home and took her into his arms, loving her and leaving the job behind, all of her reservations dissipated.

"Sammy can do what he wants. He knows how I feel about it." She turned to him, curled a hand around his upper arm and leaned into him. "As long as he comes home in one piece, Michael, you're welcome to share his time." She smiled at Michael, but there was a sense of possession in the look.

"Well, we're making progress, Mikey, because last night she would have pulled a shotgun on you if you even brought up the subject," Sam teased. He kissed her and said, "Thank you, honey."

"You're welcome. Maybe when you're not helping Michael, you can work with me."

"Sounds like you're going to be busy," Fiona remarked with a sly smile.

"Sam, I thought retirement was supposed to be relaxing," Michael said. "Nobody told me it would be like this."

"Yeah, welcome to my world, Mikey." Sam raised his beer. "When we get to Miami, we'll hash it out and see what kind of cases we get."

"Sounds like a good plan." Michael raised his beer bottle. "To the retirement plan that keeps us out of trouble!"

* * *

Michael stood by the window in the darkened room and looked down on the beach. He wasn't sure that he and Fiona could afford such a nice place if it weren't for Sam's influence and Elsa's generosity. It was only temporary, until the little bungalow he and Fiona found and bought was ready to move into. A soft wispy shuffle of her feet on the carpet, and seconds later, her arms circled his waist as she held him from behind. A move like that in the past might have caused him to tense up and attack, but he was starting to get used to the life of a former spy from the sneak love attacks to putting down roots. A few months ago the idea would have appalled and perplexed him, but he was on the other side of the wall now and it didn't look so bad.

"What's wrong?"

Still facing the windows, his smile reflected on the glass, and he brushed his hand over Fiona's limbs clinging to his chest. "Nothing. Just kind of enjoying the fact that I'm not on a timetable anymore."

"Well, look at you," Fiona said with a saucy tone. "Turning into a lollygagger, aren't you? Well, there'll be plenty of time for that later, after we get settled into the house." She kissed his shoulder blade. "Come to bed, Michael."

He did as she asked and settled in with his arms around her. As he fell asleep, he realized that he would never get another call in the middle of the night to abandon his assignment, to leave behind an asset or the woman he loved, and move on to a new place and another game of intrigue. He smiled, relishing the thought, and if he'd been the kind who was easily swayed by emotions, he would have wept for joy. Instead, he clamped his eyes shut against the minor leaking and burrowed deeper into Fiona, and he let sleep take him.

_A/N - After yesterday's sad confirmation that Season 7 will be the last for Burn Notice, I thought Michael deserved a nice retirement! I might be taking another short break myself from writing Burn Notice fanfic, but if I get a really good idea I'll have more. Hopefully S7 will generate some ideas. Otherwise, I'll be trying to get my second novel published in e-book and paperback on Amazon, and I have a concept for a Sam Axe spinoff that I am turning into a script. I've never written a real script before, so it's challenging! Whether it will ever see a TV screen... who knows. I wonder if Matt Nix ever had an inkling of what his story idea would bring about?_

_Thank you all for reading my work and letting me know you appreciate it._


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